


Temporary

by sohvia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Background Relationships, Emotional Hurt, Friends With Benefits, I honestly have no idea what to put here, I know how the story ends and how it progresses I just genuinely do not know what tags to use, M/M, Mild Smut, Pining, Unrequited Love, afraid that that tag is needed, all the captains live together, am I revealing too much, everyone should be very worried about suga, for fun, goes with the angst, i want to use the tag how do i tag, mindless disney bashing, obviously, sugawara is the worst with feelings, yep that is needed as well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-08-04 14:19:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 83,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohvia/pseuds/sohvia
Summary: Oikawa has moved back to Japan after a hearbreak, after his seven year long relationship ended, and he moves into an aparment with six other people. The most dysfuntional people he has ever met (and he thought he was a mess!).So, with the failures of citizens that he also calls 'roommates', a little begrudgingly, he tries to gather the pieces of his shattered heart and confidence.On his first day in the new apartment he is warned to stay away from Suga, the name provoking so little to be scared of he dismisses it, meets a stranger, and accidentally makes a merciless mistake.He didn't mean to fall in love when he realized who he was warned to stay away from.But feelings don't listen to your head.





	1. 280315

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of helpful notes about this fic: 
> 
> This is purely OiSuga, only chronicled from Oikawa's and Daichi's point of view (yes, you read that correctly, Daichi), and now and then a few short glimpses from the other characters as well. 
> 
> The italicized phrases at the beginning and end of the chapters are Suga's thoughts. 
> 
> The tag 'Alternate Universe' is there for two reasons: One, it is a modern setting. Two, this story takes place in an alternate universe, so if something doesn't make sense, or doesn't exist in Japan in 'our' universe, or in this world at all, just go with it
> 
> The background pairings include: Kuroo/Bokuto/Akaashi; Hanamaki/Matsukawa; Iwaizumi and his fuckboy behavior; Ushijima and volleyball (mentioned maybe once in the whole fic); Asahi/Noya

 

 

_But you don’t love me..._

 

 

 *

 

 

Oikawa was breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath, enjoying the delicious glow and haze of his orgasm.

“Okay,” he spoke in middle of his gasps. “You weren’t lying.”

“I never do,” the man lying next to him on the bed replied, his breathing equally as heavy and labored as Oikawa’s.

He felt the man shift next to him, turn on his back. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because I’m not throwing you out, but you can’t stay.”

“I know,” Oikawa replied, staring at the ceiling in his haze, feeling exhaustion settle in him. “Let me just catch my breath.”

“Take your time. As long as you don’t fall asleep there.” It was said softly, and Oikawa really didn’t find any ounce in himself that felt like he was chased out of the apartment, any need or feeling to be even a little bit offended that he was so quickly told to leave when they had just come all over each other.

He watched lazily how the man got up and walked away from the bedroom. He could still see the red marks his hands and fingers had made with his firm grasp on the man’s bare ass, on his hips. He smirked and took a deep breath to try and calm his racing heart. As reluctant as he had initially been to going out, he was glad that he had.

He had barely managed to pull himself to sit up when the man came back with a felt tip pen in his hand, crawling on the bed on his knees towards him.

“What are you doing?” Oikawa asked with amusement when the man took his arm and opened the pen with his teeth, and watched with curiosity the man write digits on the skin of his arm. The scribble was light and barely able to be felt, but the way the pen moved across his arm, and the way the man was holding it so carefully but steadily, hitched Oikawa’s breath for a moment. He’d missed tenderness like this, the subconscious care in someone’s gesture.

“When you call me,” the man said steadily, his voice underlined with confidence but colored with genuine kindness, “I want to know what name you saved my number under.”

Oikawa was slightly baffled, but he was sure to keep it out of his expression. He had been under the assumption that this had been a one time -thing. However, he had to admit that there was something in the man, some sort of attraction that Oikawa felt towards him, that made him sure this wouldn’t be the only time that they did this. He was sure to save the number in his phone the second he was in the elevator going down, with a pleased grin and a spring in his step despite the late hour.

 

 

 

*

 

 

**15 hours earlier:**

 

“And –“ Sawamura pushed a door open. “Here is the room.”

Oikawa leaned on the doorframe and peeked his head inside to take a look around. It was pretty normal, as far as rooms went – four walls, a window across from the door, a wardrobe, but otherwise bare.

He looked back to Sawamura then, who was looking back as if he was expecting something – a verdict, an opinion? Oikawa wasn’t sure, but decided to give one anyway.

“It looks like a room.”

Sawamura chuckled, the sound almost self-deprecating. “I know it’s not much. Hajime said that you’re looking for a place of your own, but this is yours as long as you need it.”

“Thanks,” Oikawa said with a shrug and detached himself from the doorframe.

“When are you going to bring your stuff?” Sawamura asked, already walking back to the common area. Oikawa followed him, looking curiously around to get a better feel of the place, to have some semblance of the lay of the apartment, since it was practically a maze.

“Tomorrow.”

“Do you need help with it?” Sawamura glanced back at him.

“I don’t have much.”

“Okay, well,” Sawamura drawled a little and leaned on the dividing island at the center of the kitchen. “You’ll probably meet the others tomorrow then. No one’s here right now.”

“Yeah, where is everyone?” Iwaizumi joined their conversation from the couch where he had sunk himself into the second they got to the apartment. The couch looked softer than soft from the way the man’s body seemed to sink into it. “It’s like they all knew that something wicked was about to land and they took off.”

Oikawa tried to ignore Iwaizumi’s reference, inferring that he was the wicked witch of the west.

 “Was that a joke about me?” he asked, though, failing at ignoring Iwaizumi, not amused at all. He was jet-lagged, and grumpy, and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. Maybe eat first, but definitely sleep.

Iwaizumi just shrugged as a response, nonchalant as always in his own sullen way.

“I think they’re all at work,” Daichi answered Iwaizumi’s question, looking at the multiple notes and papers tacked onto the fridge with multiple colorful magnets, none of which matched. There were cartoon characters, no more than one character per a cartoon, some anime characters, all of which Oikawa had no idea of their names, little plastic foods, and stars that Oikawa suspected were actually glow in the dark ones that were glued onto magnets.

Oikawa didn’t care about the papers on the fridge, but kept glaring at Iwaizumi, wondering why he still hadn’t woken up one morning with the powers to melt people into a gross puddle of human goo with just his gaze, melted like candle wax, or to choke people like Darth Vader, or Kylo Ren.

But he sighed when Iwaizumi’s form didn’t change and turned back to Sawamura. “How many live here, anyway? I think I’ve counted nine doors so far in this labyrinth.”

Sawamura let out a short laugh. “Yeah, the layout is a bit confusing at first. This was actually three apartments way back when, but someone took some walls down, put up new ones, and this is the end result. But yeah, there’s six of us, at the moment. With you, it’s seven.”

“And after a month of Oikawa living here, it’s going to be down to only him,” Iwaizumi added.

Oikawa shot him a look of annoyance and exasperation before he decided to ignore him altogether. There was no Iwaizumi in the room anymore. Iwaizumi who? So, he turned back to Sawamura. “Can I get the code for the door?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sawamura said as if he just remembered it, took a post-it note from the small table by the fridge and scribbled down the four digits. “Everyone’s friends know the code as well, so don’t be surprised when strangers come and go.”

“Got it,” Oikawa nodded, already making a note to himself that he wouldn’t be able to discern the friends from the actual tenants as he took the offered note, looking at the code and memorizing it on the spot. “What’s the second code?”

“For the building. The downstairs front door is locked from ten p.m. to six a.m.”

Oikawa nodded again, understanding.

“Is there anything else you want to know?” Sawamura offered kindly.

Oikawa thought for a moment, but couldn’t think of anything. It was most definitely due to his exhaustion, since he was sure there were other important questions he should be asking, but couldn’t remember them at the moment.

“I can’t think of any.”

Sawamura nodded as a response. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Great,” Oikawa replied, with zero enthusiasm. He could almost hear Iwaizumi’s eyeroll at that, but decided to let it go unremarked upon. Besides, wasn’t he supposed to be ignoring Iwaizumi? Even if he heard the swift sound of Iwaizumi pushing him up from the couch. If only he could call upon the aliens and have them abduct Iwaizumi. That would teach him.

“Oh, one more thing.” Oikawa and Iwaizumi were already by the front door, when Sawamura called after them.

Oikawa stopped and turned around.

“Don’t fuck Suga.”

Oikawa frowned and looked to Iwaizumi for an explanation. Of course he didn’t get one, so he looked back to Sawamura. “Who’s Suga?”

“Just,” Sawamura paused to heave a sigh. “If someone introduces themselves to you by “Suga”, don’t have sex with them.”

“Okay,” Oikawa agreed easily with a shrug. He wasn’t looking for a hook up anyway. But he was intrigued and was grilling Iwaizumi for more information the moment they were taking the elevator to the ground floor.

“Who’s Suga?”

“Hm?” Iwaizumi looked up from his phone – Oikawa suspected he was either swiping left and right on Tinder, or texting a girl – with a slight frown. “Oh, don’t worry about him,” he said, coming back to where he was and who he was with and putting his phone away. “He’s Sawamura’s friend but he’s cool. Actually one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.”

“So Sawamura was just being protective of him?” Oikawa made a guess, thinking about the way Sawamura had tried to appear casual but his rushed words had betrayed him.

_Don’t fuck Suga_

Iwaizumi smirked, leaning his back against the wall with his hands stuffed into his coat’s pockets. “Yeah, something like that.”

 

 

 

*

 

 

“You’re back!” Hanamaki shouted over the music – music which Oikawa had recognized a block away and that was now assaulting his eardrums with the shitty EDM – the moment he saw Oikawa, and ran to him to hug him tightly. “I missed you!”

“Okay, you’re drunk,” Oikawa stated with amusement as he hugged his friend back.

“And you’re back.” Hanamaki stated with glee, leaning back to take a look at him, his hands on Oikawa’s shoulders. “You’re actually back. You have to tell us everything about Los Angeles.”

“New York.” Oikawa corrected him.

Hanamaki tilted his head curiously, a bemused expression on his face as he looked to others for an explanation.

“I was in New York.” Oikawa decided to clear up, and Hanamaki’s face opened with understanding as he dropped his hands and took a step back.

“Right, right, right,” Hanamaki repeated and patted Oikawa’s arm. “New York, of course.” He then turned to stage whisper to Matsukawa, a formidable feat with the loud bass assaulting their eardrums. “I thought he went to LA.”

Matsukawa chuckled with amusement and placed a comforting hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, slowly running it down on his arm. “He did, but then he moved to New York.”

“Aah,” Hanamaki let out, elongating the syllable. “Now I remember. So, where are you staying? Did you find a place yet?”

“I’m staying at the hotel for one more night, and tomorrow I’m moving to this –“ Oikawa paused to find the fitting word. “A commune, I guess.”

“Yeah, we know, he told us.” Matsukawa gestured to Iwaizumi, who was already a few stools away hitting on someone. She was cute, and that was all Oikawa thought about it, already averting his eyes away from them in favor of picking up the shot glass and shooting it back with a grimace of the taste.

“This one is just drunk.” Matsukawa swayed Hanamaki with the hand that had returned to Hanamaki’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Hanamaki chirped happily as a response.

Matsukawa laughed softly. “I love you too,” he said back with a fond look in his eyes and kissed Hanamaki, who beamed, on his cheek.

“I’m going to go and leave you to whatever this is before I catch any of your sappiness.” Oikawa said nonchalantly, waving his hand in circle indicating the two of them, and placed his glass on the bar.

“Don’t wander too far away.” Matsukawa warned him, calling loudly after him. “You’ve been out of Japan for seven years, who knows what customs you’ve forgotten in that time.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes with a slight shake of his head as he was already walking away, heading towards the bathrooms. He wasn’t sure why they had chosen this particular bar – or was it a club? He wasn’t sure – but it was clear the establishment gathered a wide variety of customers. The dancing bodies were a blur on the dance floor, everyone either swaying to the beat of the music – which he recognized immediately to be one of his that got butchered by the executives and then by the remixer – or a little off-beat. It was a mess, and Oikawa knew he could successfully disassociate from his body if he looked at it and let his gaze relax into nothing at all.

He wasn’t looking at the dancing crowd, though, nearing the hallway that led to the bathrooms. No, he was currently locking eyes with a mysterious silver-head beauty colored by the many vibrant lights swaying around and around in non-consecutive ellipses, who was being crowded against the wall by a tall man, but he didn’t look too unbothered by it with the way he was casually leaning his back to the wall, his head titled up a little in a confident angle. There was a faint smirk on the man’s lips, clear enough for Oikawa to see in the dim lighting, and he could see how the man looked him up and down, slowly, appraising. He held the eye contact as long as he could, before he slipped behind a corner.

He didn’t see the same man again when he came back out, and he wasn’t sure if he should be disappointed or annoyed, but he still felt a little bit like that. There was something in the man’s eyes, in his smile, that held a promise of something _good._ Something that Oikawa definitely needed now that he was back in Japan after seven long years spent in America, after he had left his asshole of an ex, who only became an asshole after the break up when everything he had done behind Oikawa’s back with other people came to his knowledge.

But he supposed this was a loss he should get over as soon as possible. There was no way he was leaving this club alone, and no, his friends didn’t count. He knew he wouldn’t get what he needed out of them. As he made his way back to the bar to order another drink, the loud bass reverberating all around him in a way that he could feel thrum in his bones as well, he kept his gaze on the people around him, trying to find someone who seemed even a little bit interesting, or who could get interested. He wasn’t particularly picky about the gender, just as long as they were a promise of good time. He could usually see it in the sway of their hips and he concentrated most of his focus to the dance floor. He needed to get his confidence back, having lost some of it for self-doubt after the break up, and this was the way he was going to find it again.

“So,” a voice said into his ear a little after he had gotten his drink into his hand and downed it almost immediately. He looked next to him to see the same silver-headed man he had held intense eye contact with sit beside him and lean his chin on his closed fist, his elbow casually leaning to the bar. “Friends of yours?” The man tilted his head to the side to see over his shoulder and Oikawa looked to the same direction, at Matsukawa and Hanamaki behind him locking lips in a languid way, with a little too much tongue for Oikawa’s comfort to keep watching any longer.

“No, I don’t know who they are,” Oikawa looked back to the man to answer in a slightly raised voice so they could hear each other over the loud music, toying with the glass in a casual way, definitely trying to appear cooler and more nonchalant than he actually was in real life. And he already was smoother than most. He couldn’t help but wonder, though, how long the man had been watching him to be able to ask the question.

“Pity, they look like they could be a lot of fun,” the man stated with a flirty smile and turned back to face the bar just when the bartender came to them. “Can I get a Tilted Lemon?”

The bartender made a jerky nod and reached for the alcohol, while Oikawa’s jaw dropped.

“What the hell? How?” he asked with astonishment, and maybe a little bit jealousy. He was so shocked by the drink order that his brain completely bypassed the off-handed remark of a possible three- or foursome. “I tried to order that but he said it’s too complicated.”

The silver-haired man smiled knowingly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the sincerity of his smile. ”He’s a friend.”

The bartender nodded in acknowledgement, agreeing.

“He’s not just a friend just because I frequent this place often. We go way back, we were roommates in university.”

Oikawa made a motion of understanding, looking on with envy the way the bartender was making the drink.

“Can you make one for him too?” the mystery man asked when he received his drink, set down on a coaster.

“Sure,” the bartender replied easily, starting immediately on another one.

“Thanks,” Oikawa smiled charmingly at the man, ignoring the bartender since his earlier request of the same drink had been shut down and he was petty like that.

“You’re welcome,” the man smiled back and sipped his drink. “It’s not a big deal, anyway. I drink for free here.”

“No, you don’t,” the bartender interjected. “You just never pay your tab.”

“You can add these on that too, by the way,” the man said cheerily, clinking his glass with Oikawa once he got his drink set in front of him.

The bartender didn’t acknowledge the man’s words, just moved on silently to attend to other thirsty-in-more-than-just-one-way -clubbers, leaving the two of them alone, so to speak. Because, let’s face it, how alone could anyone be when talking in middle of a crowded club?

“You haven’t been here before, have you?” the man asked then.

Oikawa shook his head as an answer, sipping his drink. “But I gather you frequent this place?” He quirked his eyebrow a little cockily, having a feeling that it would work on the man. He had collected the information from what the man had said and what he had heard – the unpaid tab, the very fact that he had said that he frequented the place.

“Occasionally,” the man replied with a slight smile, setting up intrigue, and okay, Oikawa had to admit, he was hooked. If he thought that he was good with the flirting and the leading with the unspoken but implied promise of something good, the man was an absolute and undeniable expert. Oikawa was unable to look away from the man. “Does that bother you?”

“Not at all,” Oikawa answered truthfully. If anything, he was now more than convinced he was going to leave this shotty club with it’s shitty music with this spectacular man.

“Good,” the man must’ve whispered the word, since Oikawa didn’t hear it, but he saw his lips move, and he was subconsciously leaning closer to hear him better. Oh, the man was good. And maybe it was because of the drinks he had already had, and the fact that he was already sufficiently buzzed, that he was so easily led, but he didn’t mind. Not at all, not when he was looking at the sinful curve of the man’s lips.

“So, since you’re new here, let me help you out a little,” the man spoke louder again to be heard over the music, but it wasn’t too loud, it was perfect volume for Oikawa to pretend that they were completely alone in the club and surrounded only by the bass and the flashing lights and not all the people around them.

“I know everything that happens here,” the man continued. There was something about him that exuded confidence and sexiness, but it wasn’t too loud or flashy to bring unwanted attention. Oikawa figured the man had learnt how to do that with his frequent visits to the club. “For example, see that couple at the end of the bar there?” he subtly gestured towards the end of the bar with his chin, and Oikawa looked. “They’re about two seconds away from getting into a fight.”

“How can you tell?”

“They fight every week.”

“You’re here every week?” Oikawa turned back to ask, the couple easily forgotten when he hadn’t been interested in them at all. The cursory glance he had shot towards the end of the bar had given him nothing interesting, nothing more interesting than the man he was sure was hitting on him.

“Every week that I’m here,” the man changed his answer, only to be interrupted by a crash and a shout that drew the attention of those closest to the couple.

“See?” the man asked with a knowing grin and sipped his drink with a quirk of his eyebrows. “So, I’m definitely the one to talk to if you’re looking for something.” The man’s eyes flickered down before they came back up, and Oikawa knew he kept looking at his lips. They were close enough to each other for it to be obvious and Oikawa was sure the man was doing it on purpose, knowing exactly what he was doing with every flick of his eyes. “Or someone,” the man added in a lower voice. “So, what are you into? Men? Women? Something in between? Something outside of the box?”

Oikawa could tell he wasn’t being serious with all his questions, knew that the man was aware of their futility, so he decided to cut to the chase.

“You.”

The man locked his eyes with Oikawa, as intense as ever. The following moment was silent but charged between them, electricity crackling in the air and mixing with the double beat of the bass when the beat dropped.

“Well, that was easy.”

Oikawa smirked, pleased with himself, and licked his lips as he glanced at the way the man was biting his bottom lip. He couldn’t deny, and he was sure the man couldn’t either, that there had been something in the way they had looked at each other earlier when Oikawa walked past him on the way to the bathroom, something that had started something much more that only grew more intense as they talked, made them lean closer to each other in spite of their easy-going flirtatious conversation. It hadn’t even been quite flirting, although the connotation of it had been in their tones.

The man turned a little so his knee pressed to the side of Oikawa’s thigh, and finished his drink in one long swig. Oikawa watched in trance how the man’s throat worked as he swallowed.

“Want to get out of here?” the man asked as he softly put the empty glass down, placing his free hand high on Oikawa’s thigh. Oikawa would never admit that there had been shivers, but there were shivers, and he loved it.

“Is it going to be worth it?” Oikawa asked, teasing, since he could already sense that leaving the club with this man would be one of his best decisions ever. He had already decided on leaving with the man long ago, before all the flirting that really seemed to be a sport to the man, with the intenseness and the end goal in mind. He just didn’t want to seem as easy as he was starting to appear.

“It’s going to be the best fuck of your life, I promise.” The man sounded serious, even with all the flirting in his voice and body language, his hand moving higher on Oikawa’s thigh.

“Yeah,” Oikawa breathed in answer, believing that the man wasn’t lying or giving empty promises as he felt the tingles of the man’s touch travel everywhere in his body. “Let’s go.”

“Finish that so we can.” The man pointed towards Oikawa’s glass.

He did as instructed, finishing the drink in one large gulp, and placed the glass down as he was already standing up. “Ready?”

The man didn’t need more prompting, already sliding off of his stool and taking point in leading them around the sweaty bodies on the dance floor. Oikawa followed in his footsteps, his hand held in the man’s soft one as he was led outside of the dark and stuffy room, only looking away from the man’s ass to send a quick message to Iwaizumi, telling him he was leaving and that he’d see him again on another day.

 

 

*

 

 

_... so I’ll find someone else to give me love. Even if it’s only for a night._

 

 

 


	2. 050415

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos for the first chapter!  
> I'm nervous about this story for some unknown reason, so the kudos really helped!  
> Thank you <3

 

 

_You don’t even see me..._

 

 

*

 

 

”Where’d you disappear the other night?” Iwaizumi asked, easing into their hang out with the question, the very first thing he said to Oikawa since he came in through the front door maybe two seconds ago and he was already slumped on the couch in the laziest way possible anyone could simultaneously sit and lay down.

A talent, it must be, Oikawa thought with distaste as he eyed his friends relaxed position. At least he hadn’t acquired such a useless talent, sitting in a far more proper way with his legs stretched and feet crossed, taking up a lot of the cushion space with his long legs.

“What night?” he asked, even though he knew what Iwaizumi meant without the double check, just to be a little bit annoying and then some as he lifted the cell phone he had been obsessively carrying around in his hand like it was an attached to his palm for the past week. Just to pay back for the impolite way Iwaizumi hadn’t even properly greeted him. He could overlook barging in without a knock or a quick hello, since apparently it was what everyone did. But not to even say hi to his friend? Unacceptable.  

“The day you returned from the States, when we went out to the club. Where’d you disappear?”

“I left,” Oikawa shrugged noncommittally as he answered straightaway, as if pulling the answer from a shelf that was dedicated just for obvious answers like that for redundant questions like Iwaizumi’s was, all ready and shiny for the use only to be put back there for when it was needed the next time.

“Yeah, I got your message,” Iwaizumi said, the eyeroll audible in his tone. “I asked where to.”

Oikawa looked up from his phone, pausing in fiddling with it, taking a moment from turning it over and over in his hands. “Does it matter?” he asked with a smirk.

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi answered matter-of-fact, like a statement that didn’t have any wiggle room to be anything else.

“Okay. I hooked up.” Oikawa returned to his fiddling. He would lie and say that he wasn’t thinking about texting that guy from the other night if he was asked, but he totally was thinking about it. Was week too long of a wait? Would the guy be offended if he texted him now? Maybe the guy already had written him off since he’d taken this long...

Iwaizumi was silent while Oikawa contemplated, his silence of course going unnoticed by him as he was too deep in his thoughts. It had been a long while since he’d done anything like this – No, actually. He’d never done this. He’d never hooked up with a stranger, a cute one at that, just for a night. So, yeah. Okay. He wasn’t quite sure of the etiquette, but he was too proud to ask anyone for advice either.

“Okay.”

Oikawa caught the tone Iwaizumi said it in, and it effectively brought his thoughts to a halt as he looked up to his friend to level him a look. “What was that supposed to mean?”

“What?” Iwaizumi asked way too innocently not to know what he meant.

“Your voice.”

Iwaizumi sighed, pulling himself up on the couch as little as was physically possible, practically still in the same slump as he’d been a second ago.  “In less than twenty-four hours you had already hooked up. I’m not judging you –“

“Sounds like you are,” Oikawa cut in, indignant.

But Iwaizumi continued as if he hadn’t said a word. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. Isn’t that why you came back in the first place? You got dumbed? And you were hurting so you couldn’t stay there anymore?”

“I’m fine,” Oikawa said through clenched jaw. He didn’t like to be reminded of the break up, he didn’t like to remember the person who’d hurt him. He didn’t want to remember the last happy seven years flushed down the toilet.

“Just be careful, alright.”

“I’m fine,” Oikawa repeated, not even a little bit less hostile, even if Iwaizumi’s voice had softened with consideration and care.

However, Iwaizumi seemed to catch onto his unwillingness to talk about his reason for his return.

“So, what was his name? I’m assuming it was him,” he asked with interest that sounded genuine to Oikawa.

He reached over the gap between the couch and the coffee table and placed his cell phone there not to fiddle with it anymore. He was actually a little bit worried of wearing the edges smooth with all the turning around he was doing to it. “Don’t know. We didn’t really exchange pleasantries.”

He caught the stern look Iwaizumi shot at him when he retreated, once his cell phone was safe and sound on the coffee table. For some weird reason his hand felt empty, like something vital was missing, and his fingers were itching to play with something. But that last one wasn’t anything new.  

“What? It’s not like I’m going to see him again. It was a one time thing.” He shrugged to appear indifferent, to hide his uncertainty about calling, or maybe texting the man.

“And this isn’t his number on your arm?” Iwaizumi asked pointedly, lifting the said arm with the man’s number scribbled on blue ink, already faded but still discernible if one wanted to spend time on figuring it out. “What name did you save it under in your phone? Hot piece of ass?” He dropped Oikawa’s arm as carelessly as if it was a dead snake.

Oikawa looked at the number, having already memorized it. He had tried to wash the ink off when he had saved the number into his phone, but it had only faded a little.  Damn permanent markers! Guess the guy really wanted him to not be able to forget him or his number without some serious work put into it. So, maybe it still was okay and not too late to maybe have a round two with the mysterious man.

“Why am I getting attacked for my one night stand when you’re the one who does that every week?”

“I don’t –“

“Come on,” Oikawa drawled, eager to deflect from his own escapades. “Every time I talked to you on Skype, you mentioned a girl, and it was always a new name.”

“I’m looking for a wife,” Iwaizumi replied with an unhappy scowl, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

Was there any other kind of scowl? Yes, there was. On Iwaizumi’s face, there could be a happy scowl too from time to time. But this one, this one was definitely unhappy.

“Please,” Oikawa laughed shortly, tipping his head back over the back of the couch. “How could you possibly find anyone who meets your impossible standards when you spend three hours max with them before you cast them aside because someone else caught your eye?” he asked with a grin when he brought his chin back down.

“You know, I don’t really feel like hanging out anymore.”

Oikawa frowned as he watched Iwaizumi get up and briskly walk towards the door. “What?” A part of his brain couldn’t decipher Iwaizumi’s actions, even though he recognized it as Iwaizumi leaving. “This is what we always did. We trash talked each other’s bad habits. And now you suddenly can’t do it? I thought you had a thicker skin than that.”

“Yeah, well,” Iwaizumi stopped with one of his shoes in his hand before he could slip it on his feet, “life happens and things change. Would you like to discuss your break up?” He pointed the shoe at Oikawa. “The reason why you’re back?”

Oikawa clamped his mouth shut, his grin gone faster than light when a candle was lit inside a cabinet and the door shut on it, cutting it’s feed of air, successfully killing the fire. Because, since it probably wasn’t clear yet, he most definitely didn’t want to talk about it, talk about either of those things.

Iwaizumi let out a given up sigh, dropped his shoe with a dull thump as it hit the floor, and walked back to the couch. “Let’s just agree not to talk about dating anyone, or anything to do with relationships. Apparently it’s the one thing we always manage to fight about.” he said, sounding weary all of sudden.

“Sounds good,” Oikawa agreed listlessly. “So...” he trailed off, tapping his fingers on the couch cushions. “What do we talk about then?”

“I have no idea,” Iwaizumi shrugged with his arms out and slumped back onto the couch. Oikawa wanted to berate him for it, to warn him of back ache and bad posture. “How are you getting along with everyone?” Iwaizumi tilted his head towards him.

“Haven’t really spent any time with anyone.”

“Oh,” Iwaizumi sounded disappointed and he turned his head back to look straight ahead at nothing, his mouth pursed in what must’ve been deep thinking, with his signature scowl on that was neither happy nor unhappy. It was just a... _A scowl._

That particular scowl was the one thing that Oikawa had a pretty substantial love-hate relationship with.

Oikawa looked around the open space, trying to think of something to say, something to talk about, to do – and to simultaneously get away from the growing uneasiness between them. Why was it so hard to come up with anything when they hadn’t spent any time in the same room for a year? What was it they used to do and talk about whenever they visited each other, sacrificing their valuable time to fly across the pacific to see an old friend, someone the sacrifice of time was more than worth it? For some reason, and all of a sudden, Oikawa couldn’t remember. All he could remember was that it had been a while since he had last eaten and only because his growling stomach reminded him.

“Want to go out to eat something?” he asked, ending the long silence that had lasted however long it had – six minutes and thirty-three seconds, not that that number was important at all.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Iwaizumi jumped up, probably just as eager to get away from the stifling uncomfortableness.

In case they still lacked a conversation topic, at least at a restaurant or a diner there were other people to hide the awkwardness between them.

 

 

*

 

 

“Have you thought of work yet? Have you looked into anything?” Iwaizumi asked when they’d ordered, his gaze focused on the waitress walking away from their table.

Oikawa covered his snort of amusement about his friend’s subtle leering with a fake cough.

“No, but I’m not looking for a _place_ to work at,” he answered Iwaizumi’s question when his focus was back on him, only when the waitress had disappeared from his sight. “I think I’m just going to write songs and send them out.” He shrugged, playing with the chopsticks, twirling them around his fingers, in both hands, at the same time in the same rhythm.

Admittedly, there were multiple good points of being ambidextrous, to brag about it for example. But there were bad points too. For one, when he got restless and felt the need to do something with his unoccupied hands, he needed both hands, when others with only one dominant hand usually were fine with just occupying the one. But it was nice to impress the waiters and whatnots around him. He could always tell when someone was looking, could tell when someone had to look twice to realize that he was expertly spinning two of anything in the same rhythm around and between his fingers, from index finger to the little finger and back and forth and back forth again and again and again –

“Stop that,” Iwaizumi growled and grabbed one of the chopsticks from his hand. “You’re making me dizzy.”

Oikawa grinned, but put the other chopstick down and folded his arms on the table.

“Are you sure you don’t want to send out CVs to the companies? Demos?  It could be a steady paycheck.”

“I know _everything_ it could be to be hired at a company and that’s exactly why I want to remain untied to any. I’m not going to be someone’s lyric and note slave again.”

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows rose high over his forehead. “That’s an interesting way to put it.”

“Well, that’s how’d you feel too if someone asked a new song out of you every day of the week and month, and then took them apart and turned them into shit,” Oikawa said as petulantly as he possibly could without pouting childishly.

Iwaizumi chuckled with a happy scowl. “Don’t stop there. Vent it all out.”

Now Oikawa had gotten the third kind as well. And all of them in under an hour. He was quite amazed of how expressive Iwaizumi was being.

“No, I’m done.” Oikawa leaned back in the booth and took a cursory look around the restaurant.

“You know, I know someone who works at a big music production company. I could introduce you.”

“No, thanks,” was Oikawa’s kneejerk reaction for the kind offer.  

“I don’t mean for you to work there. I mean that you could play some of your stuff to him, and maybe he could pass it on forward. It doesn’t hurt to get your name out here as well.”

Oikawa hummed, thinking about it, his fingers tapping on his arms, crossed across his chest. “I don’t know. And –“ he perked up a little, like a police dog sniffing up contraband at an airport. “Where would you even meet someone from that profession?”

“He’s actually Sawamura’s friend, so he’s a friend by association, although I’ve spent enough time hanging with him while hanging with other people that I could probably just call him a friend anyway. But, anyway, he’s a good guy, and I know he’d definitely give your songs a listen to.”

Oikawa sighed and picked up the chopstick again. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Great, I’ll try and set it up. Just don’t have sex with him.” Iwaizumi said so offhandedly it didn’t even register to Oikawa, who was far too fascinated by the way Iwaizumi straightened from his slump just as the waitress brought their food with a sweet smile and a lovely “enjoy”.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes when he noticed Iwaizumi wink at her. “You’re shameless, flirting with her.” He gestured towards the waitresses’ retreating back with a tilt of his head, twirling the chopsticks in a very showy extravagant way before he had them positioned to eat with.

“What?” Iwaizumi asked back, as if he was offended. “It’s not hurting anybody.”

“What about the girl from last week at the club?” Oikawa asked pointedly.

“I’m going out with her tomorrow.” Iwaizumi shrugged as if he didn’t think it was a big deal that he was flirting with someone else when he was already almost sort of dating someone.

“I shouldn’t have been gone so long,” Oikawa said in a sigh and shook his head, saddened for dramatics.

“Why?” Iwaizumi frowned.

“You’ve turned into a fuckboy.”

Iwaizumi scoffed. “No, I haven’t.”

“Yeah,” Oikawa nodded his head gravely. “You have.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Iwaizumi made a dismissive hand motion and dug into his food. “Besides, you’re not much better,” he said, his mouth full of half-chewed food.

Oikawa quirked his eyebrow, amused to know why. “How so?”

“The guy you hooked up with last week? Whose number you’ve saved under “hot piece of ass”.” Iwaizumi wiggled his eyebrows, almost leery, and Oikawa wanted to smack him for it.

“I didn’t save it under that.”

“But you did save it.” Iwaizumi pointed out, sounding victorious, pointing Oikawa with the chopsticks.

“It’s for a booty call, that’s all,” Oikawa replied casually. That was the only reason why he’d saved it. If only he could come up with enough decent courage to actually use the number for what it was meant for. “It was good sex.”

“Because he let you top?”

“No one’s pushing my face into a pillow,” Oikawa stated as a fact, choosing to ignore Iwaizumi’s tease.

Iwaizumi chuckled a little, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe Oikawa just said what he said. “At least you had your rebound.”

“Hmm,” Oikawa hummed, his mouth full of food before he swallowed. “That’s true,” he agreed with a grin.

 

 

*

 

 

“Hi?” the person opening the door said uncertainly. Daichi wasn’t sure what he was uncertain off, but he could guess about fifty reasons for it. This wasn’t the first time he’d had someone other than Suga open the door.

“Hi,” he smiled politely. “Is Suga home?”

“Um...” The uncertain man turned confused and scratched his temple. “Is Suga the guy who lives here?”

“Yep.” Daichi refused to sigh, as he recognized the script that he had re-enacted about thirty times already with other men at Suga’s door. “Is he in?”

“Yeah...” The man turned to look inside the apartment and hesitantly called, “Uh, Suga?”

“What’s up?” Suga asked as he came to the hall, pulling a shirt on haphazardly, and he smiled wider when his eyes met Daichi’s. “Hey Daichi,” he said cheerily and came closer to the door.

“Hi,” Daichi greeted him.

“This is –“ Suga trailed off, clearly looking for a name he probably hadn’t bothered to even ask for before he had brought the man to his apartment.

The man waited for a second or two before Daichi heard a soft, disappointed sigh leave the man. “I was leaving,” he said to Daichi, collecting his shoes from the floor and slinging out of the apartment – all of it accomplished in less than three seconds. Something about the way the man had seemed a little let down that Suga couldn’t recall his name told Daichi that the man had told it to Suga, but of course Suga hadn’t remembered it. He never did nowadays.

“They always are,” Daichi commented to no one in particular, leaving out the ‘leaving’, as he closed the door and took his shoes off.

“Why are you here?” Suga asked with his signature kind smile, obviously happy to see his best friend.

Daichi looked at him as if he was stupid. “Movie night.” He brandished the pizza box in his hand a little higher. “It’s Sunday.”

“Oh, right.” Suga chuckled at himself, scratching the back of his head, apparently a little embarrassed that it had slipped his mind. “Sorry.”

Daichi shook his head as he took off his shoes and followed Suga to the couch. “You’re unbelievable. Where did you even pick that guy up? You don’t usually let them stay the night.” He tried not to sound judgmental, but it was hard and he knew Suga could detect it.

It’s not like Suga picked some random guy to have sex with every weekend, it wasn’t. But lately he had brought more guys home than he had before, and Daichi was concerned. He knew Suga was taking precautions and being safe, almost to ridiculous extends at times, and got regularly tested. But still, Daichi worried, especially about the emotional side of things. He knew _why_ Suga was doing what he was doing, or at least and a little more accurately described, he could make an educated guess, and he could understand to some extent. But it didn’t mean he had to like it or encourage it in any way, form or shape.

“I know you don’t really care _where_ I met him so I’m not going to tell you that story,” Suga said mildly, already flipping through the wide selection of movies to find them something to watch. Apparently he had decided to ignore the judgment, probably used to hearing it by now. Daichi knew that Suga knew that he didn’t approve, even if he never said it out loud. “What do you want to watch?”

Daichi sighed and sat down next to him, opened the pizza box on the coffee table and shrugged. “I’m fine with anything. As long as it’s bad. Or Disney.”

He noticed the smile on Suga’s face as he checked the amount of stars by the movie titles. This was what they did, what they had done forever – get together on a Sunday and waste the day away watching bad movies they could nitpick. It was their hobby, their entertainment, their fun. And since no one could ever hear what they were saying about the movies, safe. No one needed to know how ridiculous they had found the plot of Tangled and how much they hated the asshole horse. And yes, Disney princess movies, to them, were all bad, because they were so easy to nitpick, riddled with either plot holes or too convenient plot points. That was also why they were their favorites. Except for Lilo and Stitch which they had watched about a hundred times. They loved that movie. It was one of the rare exceptions to the rule that Disney movies sucked.

“Was he even good?” Daichi asked, because he always did. Who knows why? Did he even care? He knew that Suga didn’t, not really. Unless it was really good and those guys usually became repeat offenders of booty calls.

“He cried after,” Suga answered placidly.

“Is that good or bad?”

“When the sex wasn’t good – bad. When it’s good, it’s good.”

Daichi hummed, wondering how he would react if someone he had sex with cried after, knowing his demisexual ass could never be so blasé about sex that he would come to find out. He was in love with a man who was ridiculously unattainable to him, and maybe there was a part of him that craved Suga’s stories of sexcapades to live vicariously through him.

“Were you out last night then? Is that how you met the guy?” Daichi asked, despite Suga’s initial reluctance to tell where and how and why he had met the nameless guy.

“Yes, I was out,” Suga answered distractedly. “And yes I brought – “ Suga cut off, his face scrunching up a little as he thought. “I really can’t remember his name. But anyway,” he shook his head as if to clear it. “I was horny because I couldn’t stop thinking about this other guy that I slept with last week so I went out and ran into –“ Suga gestured vaguely as if he was trying to summon the name from nothing but air.

“Maybe you can’t remember his name because you never asked and he never told it to you.” Daichi pointed out lightly and plucked the remote control from Suga’s hand, too impatient to wait for him to choose something.

Suga sighed softly. “When I ask they want to know mine as well.”

“So? Why is that bad?” Daichi asked casually as he browsed through the genres, his mind already tugging for the corner that only had Disney movies.

Suga didn’t answer first and Daichi glanced at him in midst of reading the movie descriptions to see him biting his lip, until he spoke quietly. “I like how he says it. I don’t want it to be ruined.”

Daichi paused the browsing to really look at Suga, knowing exactly and extremely well who _he_ was, although only from Suga’s stories. He hadn’t met _him_ and he was about ninety percent sure he never would. So he didn’t comment on it, just picked up a slice of pizza and settled back to enjoy the search for the next bad movie for good-natured mockery.

“Couldn’t you come up with a fake name?” he suggested when Suga leaned to grab a slice for himself as well.

“But it’s weird when they say it to you when they’re fucking you, or you’re fucking them. It’s like they’re not with me when they repeat a name that means nothing to me. It’s like they’re imagining someone else.”

Daichi couldn’t identify with that but he could imagine.

Why was love so hard?

Everything would be so much easier if Suga could get over _him,_ or move on from _him._ But he knew that Suga would never do so. Not when he was trying so hard to hold onto _him._

Not that Daichi was any better off, being hopelessly and pathetically in love with his roommate –

“Wait, did you say that you picked someone else last week, but the sex was so good that it left you horny, and that’s why you had to go and find this other guy to have disappointing sex with?”

Suga nodded as he chewed and swallowed before he answered. “I woke up hard for the seventh time this week thinking about him, and I had to purge it somehow.”

“Why didn’t you call that guy from last week if he was that good?”

“Because I gave him my number, not the other way around. You know that’s how I do things.” Suga looked at him pointedly, reminding Daichi that he should know this already and to stop asking stupid questions.

“Why is it that you do so? I mean, I think I know but maybe the readers don’t.” Daichi still asked, because he was nice like that.

“If I ask for their number, they’re going to expect a call, and I don’t want to disappoint them if I woke up the next morning thinking differently and not wanting anything to do with them anymore. I can take the rejection, that’s why I give my number, but I don’t want to be the one to disappoint,” Suga spoke softly.

“Makes sense,” Daichi made a series of almost imperceptible nods. “But if the sex was that good why didn’t you just ask his number? You obviously would’ve called for more.”

“He was dangerous,” Suga said meaningfully, whispering the words as if it was dangerous to even say that out loud, and Daichi understood immediately. Suga only called people dangerous when they could make him feel affectionately towards them, when he knew he could feel more than just raw physical attraction towards them.

“He was that good?”

“He was –“ Suga cut himself off on a groan, slumping sideways on the couch to curl into a fetal position. “No, I don’t want to think about how good he was. I don’t want to pop a boner right now.”

Daichi laughed at Suga’s distress, eyeing the half-eaten slice of pizza in Suga’s hand, wary that it would fall onto the couch and make a mess of cheese and tomato sauce. “You’re hoping he calls for round two.”

“Of course I am, but I have a feeling it might take a while, if he calls at all. He seemed to only be in it for the night, and he’s so out of my league it’s unbelievable he even came home with me.” Suga’s tone was so matter-of-fact Daichi didn’t want to contradict him and tell him that probably was in the amazing-sex-guy’s league, so he let it be, for now. It was his duty as a best friend to always think that his friend was the coolest out there, that anyone would be more than just lucky to be with Suga. They would be blessed, and good karma would follow them for a week if they were granted the pleasure to spend time with him.

Suga took a sharp inhale anyway before Daichi could’ve even attempted to try and boost Suga’s view of himself, and pushed himself to sit up. “And we’re watching Frozen. I hear it basically has the same plot that Tangled does.”

Daichi selected the infamous movie with the earworm of a song and was already laughing maybe three minutes in when Suga made a comment about not needing the strength of a thousand men to break ice, just a pick-axe.

 

 

*

 

 

_...not the way I want you to_


	3. 260415

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is confused about the chapter titles, they're dates in European format - date/month/year

 

 

_I promise I’m okay…_

 

 

*

 

 

 

Oikawa’s hands were busy under the man’s shirt, his mouth busy on his neck.

“I was sure you’d never call,” the man said in a slightly breathless voice, his hands grasping onto Oikawa’s shoulders.

Oikawa would’ve been lying if he’d said that the voice didn’t do things to him, didn’t have him up his game and try to suck a little harder.

“I didn’t call,” he pulled away from the man’s neck when he was satisfied with his work to point out, his hands moving to pull the man’s shirt off. He needed unrestrained access to that chest. “I texted you,” he said, dropping the shirt on the floor, his eyes following his finger as he ran it down in middle of the man’s chest, his touch light as a feather.

“Which ever,” the man waved the terminology away with a single lazy flick of his hand, while Oikawa was more focused on the way the man shivered under his touch.

Oikawa chuckled and took a step closer to the man, successfully and with every intention in the book trapping him against the kitchen counter. “You were pretty quick to ask me to come over,” he remarked, delighted of course. “Was it my handsome face? I’ve been told it drives people crazy.”

“No,” the man shook his head and let Oikawa wrap his arms around his waist, accepted the closeness rather easily, as if he was used to people handling this way. “It was your hands.”

The man’s honest statement took Oikawa unawares. No one had ever complimented his hands like that, so honest and positive, brusque to the point that it was unforgivingly honest.

“My hands?” he couldn’t help but tease after his momentary lapse of wonderment. He brought his hands to the man’s chest, his fingers brushing on the skin, and he could see the goosebumps bloom on the man’s skin in the wake of the trailing touch.

He looked at his hands, noting the long fingers, how slender the hands looked, but not dainty enough to be called that. And a memory came back to him unbidden – of his ex complimenting them, his ex playing with his fingers, intertwining them as they held hands...

The man hummed a response to his question and leaned up to run the tip of his nose along Oikawa’s neck, from his ear to his collarbone, where he left a chaste kiss. “They look like pianist’s hands,” he spoke quietly and leaned back to meet Oikawa’s eyes. “Are you a pianist?”

“Not really,” Oikawa replied, unwilling to reveal more about himself than the man had revealed to him.

They were nameless acquaintances, who hooked up for sex only the second time.

The man stepped to the side, sliding from between the counter and Oikawa.

“Don’t tell me you’re disappointed that I’m not a pianist,” Oikawa joked, only meaning it as a joke maybe fifty percent.

The man’s smile was coy, shot to him over his shoulder. “No, no,” he refuted and turned to walk slowly backwards. “But my bedroom is this way. I’ve yet to have sex in my kitchen and I’d like to keep it that way,” he said, turning back around as Oikawa gave chase, quickly wrapping the man in his arms and kissing him in the way that he’d wanted to since he stepped inside the man’s apartment.

 

 

*

 

 

Oikawa stretched and opened his eyes.

The room he was in was dark, but he could instantly tell that he wasn’t in his own bedroom – the bed felt different under him.

He had familiarized himself with the mattress in his bed, and the one he was lying on was softer, and wider.

He blinked his eyes a couple of times, his eyes adjusting better to the dark and he could see darker shapes, and a thin sliver of light where the door was left open just a crack.

He could tell without even looking that he was alone in that bed, covered by a warm blanket he couldn’t recall pulling over him.

The man must’ve done it, he realized as he sat up.

As his eyes got adjusted to the darkness, and with the small sliver of light the slightly opened door permitted into the room Oikawa found his clothes, gingerly moving around the room as he got dressed as quietly as possible.

It was obvious the man was awake in the other room, probably in the living room that Oikawa still couldn’t describe to save his life, and he’d bypassed it twice by now, or in the kitchen.

Oikawa wondered how mad the man was that he’d fallen asleep in the afterglow, or if he would be just as dismissive of that as he apparently was about everything. Considering, though, that “everything” was only a small percentage of things that Oikawa knew about the man, which was actually a big fat nothing at all.

He was glad to find his cell phone in one of the pockets of his jeans, and he pulled it out only to check the time. Two a.m. Okay. He’d slept at least a couple of hours.

He glanced to the door, then down to himself to check that he was now properly dressed and had managed to not put his clothes on inside out in the darkness, because that would be embarrassing, and glanced at the door again.

He knew he should go.

With one last fortifying deep inhale he moved to open the door, and slipped out of the room as soundlessly as possible.

The man was in the living room, only illuminated by the computer screen he was sitting in front of, his back to the bedroom and clearly working on something.

Oikawa took a cursory, intrigue fueled look at what the man was doing, and was surprised to recognize the music program. He watched how the man clicked this and that, apparently knowing exactly what he was doing, only to pause now and then as he listened to the track he seemed to be working on, only to click and click again, to listen again.

Oikawa wasn’t sure what had alerted the man that he wasn’t alone in the living room again, but he felt a fleeting moment like a deer in the headlights when the man turned his head to look over his shoulder.

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” the man said as he slid his headphones off and placed them gently on the table next to the mouse.

Oikawa hadn’t asked anything, so the man’s words could’ve been an answer to a myriad of things. He still nodded, and absently scratched his forearm as he thought of what to say.

“I take it you can’t sleep when someone is in the same bed with you,” he ended up with, somehow noting the man’s absence in the bed earlier and indirectly asking for the reason for it.

“It’s not that,” the man replied as he turned back to the computer.

Oikawa took a couple of steps closer to the man, his focus on the man’s work on the computer screen. “You work in music?”

“Something like that,” the man answered as he fiddled with the program with practiced ease, saving his progress.

“You should’ve said so,” Oikawa commented, not sure why, maybe just to have something to say. The atmosphere wasn’t awkward per say, but their conversation stilted, both of them aware that they’d gotten what they’d wanted from their meet up and now there wasn’t any reason for them to prolong the interaction. But still, Oikawa felt the need to say something, to note the similar interest they seemed to share.

“Why?” the man sounded curious as he looked up to Oikawa.

Oikawa shrugged, without an answer right that second.

The man nodded, and turned back to the screen.

“What’s your name?”

Oikawa saw the corner of the man’s mouth lift in a smile, but when he looked up again, his eyes were inquisitive and evaluative, the smile gone.

“What name did you save my number as?”

Oikawa didn’t want to tell him, and a silence lingered between them in the dimly lit room while the man patiently waited.

When the man seemed to understand that he wouldn’t get an answer to his question, quite quickly too, Oikawa was relieved to note, he grinned softly and turned back to his work.

“Keep it that,” he said as he brought his headphones back up. “Let me know when you want to get together again.”

And this was finally the end of their night, Oikawa realized that he was being dismissed and was allowed to leave at any moment.

“You have my number too,” he reminded the man, walking slowly backwards towards the front door. “You can call me up too.”

“See you,” the man twirled his fingers at him, his focus on the computer screen, and Oikawa chuckled at the indifference.

_This is perfect,_ he thought genuinely as he let the door close after him and he called the elevator to the floor he was at. He got the inkling that the man was only interested in casual sex, which was the perfect setting for Oikawa as well. He could definitely do with some casual hook ups now and then as he got his life in order again, as he got over his break up.

Yep, this could definitely work well.

 

 

*

 

 

“I’m still convinced that the red headed chick died when she fell into the freezing stream. Seriously, that chick was dead.”

“You have to get past this, Suga,” Daichi groaned slightly. He leaned his cheek on his hand as he waited for Suga’s rant to be over. “It’s been two weeks.”

“And I’m pretty sure that the kingdom, whatever it was called, was just a copy of a Norway or some other Scandinavian country where the king or queen isn’t really in charge of the country but the government is, because they were playing pretty loosey-goosey on who the ever hell was left in charge of the damn kingdom whenever they went on another “rescue mission”.”

 “Seriously, just let it go.”

“Don’t,” Suga turned to him with a withering stare, his index finger up in warning. “Don’t go there.”

Daichi held onto his stoic expression for as long as he could before it cracked under his amusement and his mouth split in a wide smile. Suga was so serious about the movie and how disappointed he was in it.

“You’re too cute,” he cooed at Suga, exaggerating with how honeyed his voice was, his hands reaching across the space between on them on the couch to cup Suga’s cheeks.

“Stop smiling at me like that,” Suga grumbled, his hand pushing on Daichi’s face to turn it away, a light blush dusting his cheeks that Daichi was delighted to see even though Suga tried to hide it by turning his own head away.

Daichi laughed and took a hold of Suga’s wrist so he could stop the relentless pushing on his face, his cheek protesting as it was squashed against his teeth. “Just choose a movie already.”

“I can’t. Your creepy “It” -smile is distracting me,” Suga said as he switched to his other hand to palm at Daichi’s laughing face.

“The sooner you choose another movie the sooner you can get over of Frozen,” Daichi insisted through his chuckles, his both hands busy now, holding Suga’ s wrists to keep his hands away from his face.

“That name is banned and you know it!” Suga acted aghast. “How dare you?”

Daichi kept laughing. Who would’ve thought Suga would be as offended by the movie as he had been by Beauty and the Beast. “Belle” was still a banned name within their group of friends and anyone who casually said the word ‘candlestick’ in a conversation – that had nothing to do with Beauty and the Beast – got a withering look from Suga. The one time Bokuto had been singing the Gaston song, Suga had hit him with a pillow, grumbling that he needed to start to carry a car antenna with him to whip at people.

And it definitely was a mistake on Daichi’s part to say all that out loud. He promptly let go of Suga’s wrist, knowing that it would be futile to stop him from talking with his hands as he launched of, his frustration moving his hands to showcase how angered he was by the movie’s very existence. No matter how well it was made and how many beautiful shots and sequences it had that deservedly were worthy of praise.

What Daichi meant, as he readied himself for the oncoming wrath of Suga’s exasperation with the movie made for kids by leaning back a little, was the clever way the “camera” moved across the space of the large hall the beast and Belle dance in, how the image moved like a beautifully shot scene while a camera would sweep through the room if it was live action. It always, _always_ gave him chills when he saw it.

“Do you really want me to get started on Disney sanctioned stalking? On the many cases of the fucking faux-French candlestick seducing the feather duster? How Belle –“

Suga made a face at her name.

“ – wanted to go on adventures but was suddenly glad to stay put at the castle with the prince? How the staff was forced into porcelain servitude and how when the last fucking petal fell, the beast was most likely going to keep beasting while the innocent staff died?”

Daichi regretted mentioning it as he listened to Suga’s litany of problems the movie had, although, he was quietly amused by it all. He’d heard Suga’s ire about the particular movie for years now, and he could probably recite most of Suga’s grievances about the animated movie.

When Asahi had off-handedly suggested that they could go see the live action remake when it came out, if it was ever made, Suga had been livid and had refused to talk to Asahi for a week.

Ah, good times...

“Suga?” Daichi approached him with caution, hands up to show that he came in peace. “I’m sorry for mentioning the movie,” he said sincerely, asking for forgiveness with a soft smile. “Now, choose another movie for us to watch so we can nit-pick something we haven’t seen yet.”

“I kind of want to fume about the monstrosity of a “kids-movie” that has too many plot holes for me to be comfortable with,” Suga muttered, looking away with his arms folded over his chest.

Daichi smiled fondly at Suga’s rare petulance. “Fine, I’ll choose then,” he suggested. “I think we should watch something that has nothing to do with Disney...” he trailed off as he flipped through the multiple choices at his fingertips.

“Stay away from any and all kids’ movies. I don’t want to deal with fart jokes today.”

“That excludes all the comedies as well,” Daichi noted. He glanced to the side of him and saw how Suga had relaxed, his arms loosely next to his side and hand reaching for a bottle of water from the coffee table. He was glad that his best friend was over his huff and decided to just press the arrow key so the movie titles flipped on and on, like roulette, and let the “ball” fall onto a red, or a random movie, when he let go.

“This seems awful,” Suga said half-heartedly as he leaned back with his water. “Good choice.”

Daichi exhaled with amusement, a small chuckle in the form of air escaping his nose. “Thank you,” he grinned and settled next to Suga so their sides and shoulders were leaning against each other.

 

*

 

“This just goes to further prove that if you keep your man’s cock sucked, he’d never argue with you,” Suga commented idly on the argument that was forced into the movie plot, a fight that fizzled quickly once a blowjob was mentioned.

Daichi sputtered lightly. Of course Suga would know about that.

“And you know this because you have experience?”

“You know that all I know about relationships I’ve learnt from movies and tv shows,” Suga looked at him with pointed exasperation. “And now they’re having sex!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands out and arms wide. “This is a ridiculous movie,” he stated noncommittally only a second later, like he hadn’t even expected the movie to be anything else but ridiculous.

Daichi agreed whole-heartedly, but that was the exact reason they’d chosen this movie to watch. Lady Fortuna had made an excellent choice for them.

“Is this how all the romantic dramas go? Or is this a romantic comedy? Romantic drama comedy?” Suga looked to him with helplessness.

Daichi chuckled.  “I have no idea what genre this falls into.”

And all of sudden it was the next morning in the movie and the characters woke up with fake light shining in through the tall windows, bathing the bedroom in a light golden glow, probably meant to represent how in love the couple was with each other.

“But the production companies sure seem to like to use the same template for all of these – hire a good looking famous actress for the quirky and dainty girl role, a ruggedly handsome man with a heart of gold and a charming smile for the boy role, write meaningless dialogue, make the same pointless mistakes with exposition that every bad movie makes, a hint of the sex, sappy love songs, and voila!”

Suga was chuckling next to him, his hand reaching for his cellphone left on the coffee table when it made a sound of a text message during Daichi’s tirade.

“Who is it?” Daichi inquired casually. He could already make a vague guess that it was one of the many men Suga had given his number to when he deemed them worthy of it. No one bothered Suga about work on Sundays.

“No one,” Suga replied as he typed a reply to the text as well.

“That guy with the amazing sex? Or someone new?”

“It’s no one,” Suga repeated himself, dropping the device carelessly onto the couch next to him.

Daichi observed Suga for a moment, the movie forgotten to the background. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because it doesn’t matter who messaged me.”

“Suga...” Daichi said imploringly, softly, asking him to open up a bit more with all the gentleness in his voice.

“What?” Suga asked back, meeting his soft gaze.

“You know I only worry.”

“I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Daichi nodded. “I’ll accept that, but only if you mean it with hundred percent.”

He didn’t like the silence that followed his words, but didn’t comment on it, choosing to wait for Suga’s reply, even if he already knew what it would be.

“I’m okay,” Suga repeated, as Daichi had guessed, after the silence that had already told him that he lied. “Not as okay as this actress, though,” Suga commented on the movie again. “Seriously, if I looked that good in the mornings too when I’ve just woke up, I’d probably be a millionaire too.”

Daichi glanced at the movie, and turned back to Suga when he saw nothing that would keep his focus there. “Suga, you are a millionaire.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.”

Daichi grinned with mischief when Suga met his eyes with an incredulous and skeptic look. “Your smile is worth a million, easily.”

Suga’s face cracked open with a smile, looking a little bashful, a light blush back on his cheeks. “You don’t mean that,” he said quietly, looking away from Daichi.

“I do,” Daichi said fondly, bringing Suga to his side with an arm casually thrown over Suga’s shoulders. “You’re my best friend. Why would I lie?”

“Because you _are_ my best friend,” Suga stated. “You do that all the time.”

“It’s not my fault if you fail to see how amazing you are.”

“And you’re here to do what? Remind me of that?”

“Exactly.”

Suga looked away again, the light red dusting on his cheeks. But Daichi could tell he was pleased.

“Love you, Suga,” he said softly, with all the caring in the world and with his whole heart, causing Suga to melt against his side. “Always will,” he added in a whisper, placed into a kiss the lightly pressed to the side of Suga’s head.

“I really am okay, Daichi,” Suga said in a small voice, smiling sweetly at him.

Daichi nodded, accepting it for now, but reserving some doubt.

 

 

*

 

 

“Hey,” Sawamura greeted everyone in the living room when he got home, Oikawa giving the barest glance feasible from the couch he was lounging on with Iwaizumi, Bokuto and Akaashi, to the man who’d barged in in middle of a game show that had an obvious laugh track running on the background.

Not that Oikawa had been paying any actual attention to the game show, as he was far too invested in the sexting he’d half-accidentally stumbled into. Honestly, he hadn’t thought it would happen when he’d texted “Hot Piece of Ass”, as Iwaizumi ever-so-fondly-and-only-in-a-sarcastic-voice liked to call him, hadn’t intended that to happen at all, but that was where it had ended up at, to his very obvious delight.

He had even forgotten Bokuto and Akaashi’s presence, even when the couple had been on and off dozing in a corner of the large couch for the past hour, curled against each other.

It had been something for him to acknowledge, not that he really minded their presence and cuddling, but the quick looks he noticed Iwaizumi shoot at the couple now and then had caught his attention. There was no expression, or a significant scowl with a personality of its own, accompanying the looks, so Oikawa hadn’t had any idea what was going on in the man’s head.

Ultimately, after the third time he noticed Iwaizumi cast a sidelong look, he’d just decided to ignore the whole thing. He knew that Iwaizumi would just deflect if he asked about it, and had pulled his cell phone out to try his luck with the mystery man who gladly slept with him but didn’t let him stay over for the night.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi greeted Sawamura back. Oikawa wasn’t surprised by the friendliness between the two, had witnessed it enough times already to have the impression of an established and long friendship.

“How’s Suga?”

Oikawa frowned, now surprised, wondering how Iwaizumi knew where Sawamura had been. The latter hadn’t said anything of where he had was going when he left half a day ago.

“He says he’s okay,” Sawamura answered as he lowered himself on the couch as well, to partake in the mind-numbing tv watching.

“Do you believe him?” Iwaizumi asked, his voice an obvious statement of how little he believed it to be true.

“Not even a little bit,” Sawamura replied without missing a beat, and sighing right after.

Oikawa blinked multiple times and smoothed his frown away, adapting a grin in it’s place. “You know, when you first mentioned this “Suga”-person and warned me about him, I was sure I would see more of him here. And yet, I haven’t met him yet,” he commented idly, a pointed tone somewhere there. He wanted to be subtle about the prodding for more information without sounding too interested about the man.

“He’s been busy with work lately,” Sawamura explained with a noncommittal shrug, as if that was a sufficient explanation at all. “He’s the head of a team of producers and they’re preparing to push another artist out so they’re busy with their first album.”

“He’s the friend I told you about that you should give some of your demos to,” Iwaizumi added.

Oikawa lifted his chin as a muted sign of understanding, although he felt none the wiser.

“You write songs?” Sawamura asked, sounding genuinely interested about a subject that Oikawa wasn’t interested to talk about at all.

“I used to,” Oikawa said warily, faking a grin, still always happy to talk about himself. He was kind of done with the song writing, though. For now, at least.

“He wrote a lot in America and made a ton of money, invested it and is now living just from the interest alone,” Iwaizumi provided more information, baffling Oikawa with it.

First, how did Iwaizumi know? Second, why would Iwaizumi tell that to anyone else?

“Why would you tell him that?” he asked, a little bit insulted.

“I’m sure Daichi would start to wonder how you’re paying for rent when you don’t work,” Iwaizumi said, like it was the most normal thing for someone to do. “Plus, I’m sure the readers were interested too.”

“I don’t care about them. Don’t just go and tell people about my personal stuff.”

Iwaizumi raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, I won’t do it anymore.” He might’ve meant it as a form of an apology, but it didn’t really sound like that. More like he was just done with the whole thing now.

Which was good.

Although...

So he’d made some decent money with his songs and was living off of it now. Who cares?

Oikawa felt the tug at his self-confidence, kind of wanted to brag about the money he had made. Just not how he had made it. Well, maybe a little.

It did sound good to hear someone say that he’d been successful in his career. The implication that he’d been good enough at writing songs to make a lot of money, and that he’d been wise to invest.

But Oikawa didn’t have the energy, or the need to muster any to kick up a bigger fuss –he wasn’t actually too insulted at all after all.

 “I’m sure Suga would be happy to get some of your songs to the “new talent”-researchers, or “one note divas” as he likes to call them. They get a lot of songs sent by songwriters and starting artists and Suga once told me that it could take up to two to three months for them to get any response back because of how many songs they have to wade through. But I’m sure he could put a word in to get your songs a quicker listen to.”

“That’s not necessary,” Oikawa declined.

“Are you sure?” Sawamura inquired gently.

The tone of Sawamura’s kind offer went unnoted by Oikawa as his attention was stolen by the sound of a new text from his cell phone.

 

**Hot Piece of Ass as Iwa likes to call him:** Just showered

**Hot Piece of Ass as Iwa likes to call him:** so only wearing boxers

 

Oikawa smirked, quickly typing up a reply.

 

**Pic?**

 

“Oh, hey Sawamura,” Bokuto said through a yawn, stealing the attention away from Oikawa.

Oikawa put his cell phone away, glad that he didn’t have to give an affirmative to Daichi’s gentle confirmation as he waited for his sexting partner’s reply, and saw Bokuto wipe some drool from the corner of his mouth.

“When’d you get here?” Bokuto mumbled, the sleep still clinging to him obscuring his speech as tightly as he was clinging onto Akaashi’s arm.

“A while ago.”

“How’s Suga?” Akaashi asked in the quiet and patient way that Oikawa had now grown used to, when it had first bemused him. He really couldn’t see how someone quiet like Akaashi could stand someone loud like Bokuto, but then again, they had a third person in their relationship to absorb some of the energy that Bokuto was overflowing with, plus, Akaashi lived in the student dorms and could probably get some alone time when he needed it.  

But Oikawa frowned, confused again. Why was Akaashi worried about this Suga person as well?

“Busy,” Sawamura sighed. “How are you? How’s school?”

“Exhausting,” Akaashi answered placidly, like he was commenting on a nice weather.

“So is work,” Iwaizumi added yawning and stretching while everyone, with the exception of Oikawa, made sounds of agreement. “And I’m hungry.”

“Kuroo should be home soon,” Akaashi told him, reaching for the remote. “Does anyone mind if I change the channel?”

No one denied, and the channel was quickly changed and there were ads on now.

Great, Oikawa wanted to bury himself under the worn couch cushions so he wasn’t tempted to buy a new razor that “shaves even cleaner and smoother than any other razor!”

Luckily he was saved from suffocating himself under the cushions when Akaashi’s prediction came true.

“I’m home!” Kuroo announced with a wide grin when he arrived with a delicious smell, holding up a plastic bag high in his hand for everyone to see. “I brought leftovers from the restaurant.”

“Awesome!” Bokuto crowed, jumping up and running to Kuroo in a total and drastic contrast to how tired he’d seemed only a second ago, giving him a quick kiss when he snatched the bag from his hand, and ran to the kitchen to empty it.

Everyone else greeted Kuroo as well, making their way to the kitchen a lot more calmly.

“Aren’t you hungry, Sawamura?” Kuroo asked, and Oikawa looked to the couch to see the man still relaxed there.

“I just had pizza,” Sawamura answered, his gaze still on the tv, but a fond smile on his lips that hadn’t been there before Kuroo’s arrival. His cheeks looked a little redder, Oikawa was intrigued to notice.

“How’s Suga?” Kuroo asked at once.

And Oikawa really couldn’t help but feel a little bit awed, and then jealous and bitter to feel so, as Kuroo got the implication that Sawamura had been hanging with his best friend just from the mention of a pizza.

And the he felt weirded out that he wanted to be at the same comfort level and had unlocked the friendship achievements to be at that level with these people.

“He says he’s okay,” Sawamura repeated the same answer he’d give to Iwaizumi.

“Is he, though?” Kuroo asked with concern and a speculatively cocked eyebrow.

Oikawa saw how Sawamura’s upper body moved with his deep sigh, before he turned his head with his worried expression for everyone in the kitchen to plainly see.

“Yeah, I figured,” Kuroo nodded.

The conversation about a faceless man he was warned not to have sex with was confusing Oikawa beyond the point of ever feeling that he’d get what they were talking about.

“Okay, what’s the deal with this Suga and everyone being worried about him?” he couldn’t help but ask. “Is that why you told me not to fuck him? Because “he’s not okay”?” He made air quotes with his fingers and looked at everyone present to try and start piecing the puzzle of mystery together.

“Something like that,” they all grumbled under their breath, averting their eyes from him and returning to picking their late dinners from the leftovers now laid about on top of the island.

Oikawa looked on for a moment, waiting for someone to elaborate. But when he didn’t get more out of them, he threw his hands in the air in frustration and let them fall down to his sides limply, giving up on the mystery for now.

He wasn’t all that concerned about it anyway. Not when his cell phone dinged with the notification of a text message, a reply.

 

**Hot Piece of Ass as Iwa likes to call him:** No

**Hot Piece of Ass as Iwa likes to call him:** But you’re welcome to come and see for yourself ;)

 

“I’m going out,” Oikawa said to everyone at once, putting his cell phone back to his pocket and making his way out of the apartment in hurried and long strides. Not that he was excited at all.

“I thought we were going to hang?” Iwaizumi said as a form or a question, holding a plate that was covered under a mountain of food.

Oikawa briefly wondered if anyone else had been able to get any food on their plates at all or if it was all on Iwaizumi’s, but quickly moved on.

“I got a better offer,” he smirked, putting his shoes on.

“From him?” Iwaizumi asked pointedly, his scowl obscured with one eyebrow lifted higher to make his question even more pointed.

“Who’s him?” Kuroo asked.

“A rebound,” Iwaizumi answered in Oikawa’s dismay, his voice toneless.

“Cool!” Bokuto chimed in. “Have fun!” he wished with a wide grin, looking happy with his own mountain of food, his fingers wiggling in a form or a happy wave and send off.

Oikawa chuckled, his chest a little buffed. “Bye!” he sing-songed on his way out, excited of how his night was about to get even better, this development a huge upgrade from the game shows and ads that he’d dejectedly accepted to spend his evening watching.

 

 

*

 

 

_...but you can always tell when I’m lying_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should apologize for the hate that Suga expressed for Beauty and the Beast. I actually love the movie... What Suga said is pretty much what someone once told me when they were baffled why I like the movie, so... Thanks for that!


	4. 310515

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do suck at tagging, so if there's something I should tag about this fic, please let me know so I can do that :)

 

 

_Do you think it would be better..._

 

 

*

 

 

”Fuck! Fuuu-uuck!”

Oikawa slumped onto the bed next to the still kneeling body, breathing labored and his heart beating fast like he’d just finished a marathon.

“My neighbors are going to hate me,” the man next to him laughed, sounding just as breathless as Oikawa felt.

“Why?” Oikawa frowned, confused.

The man just shook his head a little as he sat up, brushing his sweaty bangs off of his forehead. “You’re loud, and I’m not so sure of how thick the walls are,” he said with a small smile on his lips.

“We have to stop meeting in the middle of the night then.” Oikawa looked out the window, the shades were up and the lights that lit the night were illuminating the room with dim lighting.

“It’s the only free time I have, though.”

Oikawa hummed and closed his eyes, his breathing steading and heartbeat slowing down to the normal rhythm.

“Don’t fall asleep there.”

Oikawa hummed again, but just a short and maybe a little bit sleepy sound, and scrunched his eyes tightly closed before he blinked them open with great effort. He was feeling relaxed, warm, and very good in every sense and could totally fall asleep if he let himself.

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

With a heavy sigh he rolled over to sit up at the edge of the mattress, planting his feet to the floor.

“Do you want to shower before you go?”

Oikawa glanced over his shoulder to the man, who was concentrating on his phone. “No, it’s okay,” he replied as he turned his gaze back forward.” I’ll shower at home.” He took off the condom and threw it in the trash bin before he got to dressing up.

He could feel the man’s eyes on him as he pulled his underwear on and started to search for his shirt. “You’re staring,” he said as he picked it up, knowing it to be a fact without having to check.

“You’re nice to stare at.”

Oikawa smiled charmingly at the man, who really was watching him. But the look wasn’t heavy with any particular feeling, nor was it void of anything either. It just, was. A look.

“You’re gorgeous,” the man added after a moment, and Oikawa got the feeling that he really meant it, which, obvious.

“Thank you,” he beamed in response, and set on a mission to find his pants – the biggest piece of clothing he’d had on when he arrived to the man’s apartment, now nowhere in sight. “Where did you throw my pants when you pulled them off?” He let his eyes roam around the room, silently cursing the poor lighting for the fact that he couldn’t see his black jeans anywhere on the floor.

“I have no idea,” the answer came, sounding distracted, and when Oikawa glanced at him again, he noticed his eyes roaming on him.

It was, honestly, quite flattering how the man was looking at him. He smirked.

“Maybe you could stop staring at my ass and help me find them? I need them to go home, and since you don’t let me stay and I don’t fancy prancing around the city at night half-naked, I really need them.”

“Check by the door,” the man said, helpfully pointing towards it. “I only remember throwing them over my shoulder.”

Oikawa went to check, the shirt still hanging from his hand. He had kept it off for a reason, fully conscious of how he looked without it, and how much the man seemed to appreciate his muscle definition if the wandering hands every time they got together were any indication.

“Found them,” Oikawa said, finding the missing pants by the door in the patch of a shadow at the corner and promptly pulling them on. The gaze still lingered on him, he could feel it, but he didn’t really mind now that he knew that it was really a compliment.

“Are you mad?”

Oikawa’s brow furrowed as he finished buttoning the pants and turned to look at the man.

He was lying back on the bed, resting on his elbows, still stark naked.

“What?” Oikawa asked with a funny little chuckle, a little too high pitched to really sell how casual he tried to be about it. The vision the man made when he looked so debauched, and naked, was alluring to say the least. He felt the tug at his insides, at his newly awakened arousal to kick and wrestle his pants off and lunge back into the bed.

“Are you mad that I always make you leave?”

Oikawa kicked himself for entertaining the idea of staying any longer, of jumping back into bed to kiss the man some more, to work themselves to another orgasm. He let his eyes move to the side as he thought, this way keeping his eyes off of the man and the thoughts of fucking into him at bay, figuring out how he felt about always sneaking out, although it wasn’t really sneaking he did when they both knew that he was leaving, and found that he wasn’t _mad,_ per say. But he wasn’t happy either. It was really more of a ‘meh’ –situation.

“It doesn’t really matter to me,” he answered when he’d thoroughly weighed it in his head. “Why? Are you feeling bad about kicking me out?”

The man shook his head. “Just thinking out loud.”

And Oikawa was... A little bit... disappointed, not that he would admit it unless he was pressed to do so under a threat to his life. “Alright, well, if you ever start to feel bad about it just let me know,” he advised, keeping his face neutral. He really wasn’t adverse to the idea of staying the night.

But for now –

“I should go now.”

The man nodded, “See you around.”

“You definitely will,” Oikawa boasted, and exited the bedroom. He carefully pulled the door closed after him, as he always did, and put his shirt on now that his naked chest and toned muscles didn’t have an audience anymore.

The rest of the apartment was dark like the bedroom had been, and a stranger would have stumbled on something or bumped themselves on furniture or a corner of a wall. But not Oikawa, who had made the same trek from the bedroom to the front door many times. He really didn’t need to switch the lights on anymore to find his way out.

This time there was a pale and slight illumination helping him out, though, coming from the man’s computer in the living room, Oikawa noticed, and figured the man had worked on something before he came over. He was intrigued to find out what, wanted to know more about this man who stubbornly remained a mystery to him.

Not to be tempted to approach the computer, to reach the mouse to move out of the screensaver, he kept his eyes firm on the door, on his exit, even when he grabbed his sweatshirt from the back of the couch as he passed by it.

But the sound, the small ‘ding’ of a message, maybe an email, halted him in his mission. His curiosity raised its head, stronger than his will to ignore it, and Oikawa checked that the bedroom door was still closed, and listened intently to hear if the man was still up and moving.

When he didn’t hear any sounds of movement, he braved to take a couple of sidesteps to the computer. As he put his hand on the mouse, he checked again if the man was about to come and find him snooping.

The apartment was still silent, and so was Oikawa as he clicked, the screensaver disappearing to show the desktop, almost bare of icons, and the background image of a waterfall and a lagoon of some sort.

The tab at the bottom showed that the browser had only been minimized, and Oikawa clicked it open as well, the man’s email inbox opening in front of his eyes.

A sudden sound of steps, as faint as they were coming from behind the wall, equal to someone made of feathers, made Oikawa rush out of the inbox, away from the computer and out the door.

His heart was in his throat as he kept pushing on the button by the elevator, willing it to hurry. He had no doubt that the man wouldn’t be happy if he caught him snooping like a private detective. But he was confident that he’d gotten away with this time. He’d been quick enough, stealthy enough to avoid detection.

As he stepped inside the elevator, which wasn’t empty, and schooled his appearance to nonchalance despite his frantically beating heart that sure was taking its sweet time calming down, he thought that maybe it was best that he didn’t manage to see anything in the inbox.

Once outside, he pulled the sweatshirt on to keep warm and started his surprisingly short walk home. The streets weren’t empty by any means, but they weren’t busy either, giving him an excellent chance for contemplation and heavy duty thinking – landing on the thought that it was an extremely ideal, and probably lucky, chance that he hadn’t seen anything in the inbox, even if the curious part of his brain didn’t agree with his reasoning part. If he’d been able to read any line on the email, who knows, he might’ve learned the man’s name!

 

 

*

 

 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Were the first words Oikawa heard when he got back home, the words greeting him as he opened the door. The apartment was dark, except for the small light in the kitchen under the cupboards on the wall, and empty apart from Moniwa stalking across the island with a cellphone on his ear and his other hand carding through his hair in distress.

Oikawa closed the door softly after him, so not to alert Moniwa to his presence, and carefully toed his shoes off, trying not to register the conversation Moniwa was having with who Oikawa assumed was his girlfriend.

“I didn’t flirt with anyone!”

“She’s just a co-worker!”

“Like you’re never flirting with anyone!”

“You’ve already slept with one of my friends! You have no right to stand on a fucking pedestal!”

“I didn’t hide you away!”

“You want to meet my mother? Fine!”

Oikawa moved swiftly across the apartment and through the narrow hallways to his room, only hearing one side of the conversation, but it was still filled with enough information for him to make a very sophisticated and educated guess on what the fight was about.

“Hey.”

Oikawa was surprised to find his room illuminated with lights and Terushima sitting on the windowsill next to an open window. He hadn’t expected anyone to be in his room, least of all the elusive Terushima, who was rarely home at this time of night.

“Hey,” he greeted back warily as he softly closed the door, Moniwa’s fight now muffled and barely audible unless he really wanted to try and pick up the faint words by the distance and the walls between them.

“I couldn’t sleep with Moniwa fighting with his girlfriend because he was right next to my room.” Terushima turned his head to look out the window again as he explained. “I used to come here when this room was still empty whenever that happened since it’s the farthest from kitchen, and his room. I hope you don’t mind.”

Oikawa didn’t reply in words, just made a grunt as he pulled his heavy sweatshirt off and fell on his bed, tired and ready to fall asleep. He should’ve showered at the man’s place, he thought with regret as he felt his skin itch where the sweat had dried.

But he quickly found that he couldn’t fall asleep with Terushima wide awake in his room, with the noise from the city gently floating through the air and in through the open window, and he rolled over to peer at the man gazing out his window, his legs outside the apartment and dangling in the air, the finest tendrils of cigarette smoke still detectable. Terushima must’ve smoked just a moment ago, and probably threw the cigarette out when he arrived.

“Does this happen often?” Oikawa asked, the curious part of his brain that had had to go unsatisfied now demanding to be compensated.

“Sometimes,” Terushima answered with a shrug, as if he wasn’t too preoccupied with Moniwa’s fights with his girlfriend, like he couldn’t care less. And Oikawa fully believed that he probably didn’t care at all.

“Hey,” Terushima suddenly turned on the ledge and brought his legs inside the room. “Can I ask you something?”

“I suppose so,” Oikawa answered noncommittally, lazily gazing at the ceiling, squinting a little against the ceiling lamp that was shining at the corner of his eye.

“Where do you disappear to?”

Oikawa felt a grin grow on his face, tugging the corners of his mouth wider, as he moved his gaze to Terushima. “What do you mean?”

Terushima rolled his eyes, and it was clear that they both knew that Oikawa knew what he’d meant with his question. But Terushima still replied. “Like tonight. You just left and now you’re back. Are you dating or something?”

“Not really,” Oikawa answered with a self-satisfied smirk.

“A hook up?” Terushima cocked his eyebrow, smirking as well.

“Something like that.”

Terushima leaned his elbows on his knees, looking interested beyond belief. “Is she hot?”

“He’s cute.”

“Oh.” Terushima’s back straightened and his devious smirk fell from his face.

“Don’t tell me you have something against gays.” Oikawa frowned.

“Not at all,” Terushima shook his head. “I just got the impression that you’re straight, that’s all.”

“Gee, thanks,” Oikawa said sarcastically. “Can you go now so I can sleep?”

“Sure,” Terushima agreed easily and hopped down from the window sill, pausing to close the window before he made his way to the door, shutting out the sounds of the city that didn’t know what sleep was.  

Oikawa closed his eyes, ready to fall asleep himself now.

“You do realize that the guy you’re sleeping with is a little bit of an asshole for not letting you stay over at his place?”

Oikawa heaved a sigh at Terushima’s question, well aware that his hook up wasn’t the sweetest guy around there. But he had a funny feeling that there was a lot going on behind the curtains in the guy’s life. Hell! He didn’t even know the man’s name.

And he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to even find out what his name was.

It was... Interesting to not know anything about the man – except where he lived, apparently – and he was subtly excited to find out how long that would last.  

“Yes,” he still replied.

“Okay, cool. Goodnight.”

Oikawa kept his eyes closed until he heard the sound of the door opening and closing, Moniwa’s fight audible again for the second in between.

It was late, and he was tired, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. He would have to get up early in the morning, and he already knew that he would be tired. He knew he’d be tired when he’d accepted the man’s invitation for sex some hours ago.

However, he figured that it was worth it.

 

 

*

 

 

“Asahi, I’m telling you, Hans was only evil so Anna didn’t have to make a choice between two guys.”

Daichi glanced at the computer screen in Suga’s living room, at Asahi’s baffled expression as he was probably wondering who the hell were Hans and Anna, and grinned when he turned back to reach for a bowl for the popcorn he’d just popped.

“Suga? What are you talking about?” he heard Asahi ask next, sounding very confused.

“Frozen,” Suga stated.

“Still?”

Daichi couldn’t help the sputter of laughter that escaped him as he dumped the popcorn into the bowl.

“What do you mean “still”? What did you think I was talking about?”

“I don’t know.” Daichi saw Asahi shrug helplessly when he glanced over again.

“Don’t worry, Asahi,” he assured as he came to stand next to Suga, leaning his arm on the back of the chair. “He’s been on and on about Frozen like a broken record ever since we saw it. Two months ago.”

Suga slumped with his arms on the desk, his head hanging low. “The movie makes no sense to me anymore,” he bemoaned softly.

“Because you overanalyzed it. Now, let it go.”

Suga’s head shot up and he looked at Daichi with a storm in his eyes, while Asahi happily noted that, “Hey, I know that song!”

The heat of betrayal seemed to leave Suga the next second and he turned his unimpressed gaze back to Asahi. “Did you know that carrots open locked doors?” he asked deadpan.  

“Okay, I need to get your mind on something else,” Daichi decided then, before Suga had the chance to sarcastically nitpick the movie any more. He dropped the bowl of popcorn into Suga’s lap and grabbed the back of the chair to steer Suga away from the computer.

“Bye Asahi!” he waved to the screen. “I’ll talk to you more on another day. Enjoy France!”

“Stay away from pervy candlesticks!” Suga gave his own parting words as he let Daichi wheel him across the narrow living room to the couch.

Asahi bid his own goodbyes too, and the next second he was gone, leaving Daichi alone with Suga.

“’Stay away from pervy candlesticks?’” Daichi questioned with an unimpressed look of his own as he took the bowl from Suga’s lap and placed it on the low table next to the couch.

“It’s a valid advice,” Suga defended with a neutral expression. “Why’d you make popcorn?”

“Because I wanted popcorn. And I know you like popcorn. Now,” he took Suga’s hands and pulled him up from the chair. “Pick a movie for us to watch.” He kicked the chair away and turned Suga so he could let go and let Suga fall to sit on the couch.

He regretted his words the very next second and a slow trickle of horror iced his veins when he noticed the mischievous glint in Suga’s eyes and the slow smile that spread on his lips.

“No,” he said as sternly as possible before Suga had the chance to say anything. “No, Suga. No.” He shook his head adamantly and with a smidgen of panic for the seasoning.

“I want to watch Frozen.”

“No,” Daichi repeated himself, his head shaking as if it was an electric toothbrush. “And wasn’t that word banned?”

He picked up the bowl of popcorn as he went to sit down on the couch, attempting to keep Suga away from the remote by blocking him from it.

“You already used it,” Suga pointed out, reaching for the remote anyway, still keeping his distance from Daichi, though. “And we’re watching it again.”

“No, Suga,” Daichi was about to start begging, keeping the remote as far away from Suga as possible, leaning over the armrest of the couch and in fear of falling off. But he would defend the remote with his life! “I can’t watch it anymore. I’ve seen it more times than anyone should ever have to. It’s a form of torture to me now. Do you really want to put me through it?”

“Kind of,” Suga shrugged, giving up his fruitless fight for the remote.

Daichi dropped from dangling over the armrest to sit on the couch with a tired sigh. “There’s nothing new you can pick up from it,” he turned to say to Suga. “You’ve nitpicked it to death and then analyzed the corpse and now it’s a zombie on crutches, which is why it doesn’t make any sense to you anymore.”

“A zombie on crutches?” Suga asked with a hint of a chuckle. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

_“I know,”_ Daichi stressed the words in a low voice. That had been his very point. It didn’t seem to deter Suga, though.  

“You know, if you really think about it, it’s really a superhero movie,” Suga started to analyze, moving on from the confusing zombie metaphor as if it had never been brought up. There was a skip in his voice, like he was trying to convince Daichi to watch the movie again.

But Daichi was adamant.

He dropped his head back onto the back of the couch, silently praying for the ceiling to drop down now and kill him, to save him from the torture.

“I mean, the anemic chick has superpowers. And their parents are dead,” Suga listed like he was making a valid point, when Daichi placidly looked ahead at nothing, waiting for Suga to be done. “Plus, you can’t tell whether the ice queen is the villain or not. It’s clearly a superhero movie.”

“We’re still not watching it,” Daichi said in a low and dark voice, like a punctuation mark that they were done with the subject now. He had to put in a lot of effort to ignore Suga’s puppy pout with the double kill of a head tilt, steadfastly looking at the tv, searching for something for them to watch other than Frozen.

“We’re watching, we’re watching, we’re watching...” he chanted to keep Suga, who looked like he wasn’t done yet, from talking more about the movie with a fucking sentient moose and then trailed off as he kept flipping through the many choices they had.

“Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.”

There was a silent pause after Daichi’s decision.

“That’s not a Disney movie.”

Well, it wasn’t a “no” from Suga so Daichi figured they were settled on that one then.

“I know. Perfect.” He clicked on play and settled comfortably on the couch, taking the lead and showing the perfect example of a movie goer – a model some ad agency would put on a photo in the leaflet listing the features of a home entertainment system.

Suga hummed next to him, tucking his legs close to him on the seat of the couch and reached for a palm full of popcorn like a caveman. “I guess I could watch a movie about cannibalism too.”

“Cool,” Daichi sighed with relief that turned mistrustful in the end. “How do you know there’s cannibalism in this?”

“I’ve seen this before,” Suga replied, getting more popcorn. “I remember enjoying it.”

“Okay, well, good. We’re still mercilessly going to mock it.”

“Obviously,” Suga agreed in a heartbeat.

And Daichi was satisfied with that. He remembered seeing the movie before as well, years ago, but he couldn’t really remember anything specific about it. But he was certain that Suga wouldn’t be able to draw parallels between this movie and Frozen.

And Suga didn’t.

However, what Daichi didn’t expect was for Suga to be able to get enough fuel from Willy Wonka to mock it for the next five years to come.

Yes, Daichi did come to regret watching the movie with Suga. But more about that later.

 

 

*

 

 

“Yo, Oiks!” Matsukawa threw his hand up for a high five to him.

Oikawa eyed the hand for a quick second, fast-forwarding through the possibilities that high fiving Matsukawa could have, and decided that it would be worth it.

The slap of their palms meeting echoed in the empty space.

“Thanks for coming to help out.”

“I couldn’t let you do this without me. What if one of you gets hurt when you try to lift a too heavy box?”

“Rude,” Hanamaki pointed out blandly, his head inside one of the boxes already as he rummaged for something.

“One of you might even drop a box on your foot. How will you ever live with the shame if I’m not here to remind you of it?” Oikawa smirked, having a lot of fun with his teasing.

Matsukawa gave him a blank look, almost disappointed, as if he’d expected better from Oikawa.

“Besides, I had nothing better to do,” Oikawa finished off with a shrug when he didn’t get the reaction he’d been hoping for, taking a cursory look around now that no one was paying him any attention anymore. Most of the stuff he’d promised to help to move had already been carried in.

He was late, and tired just like he’d known that he would be. But if no one was kicking up a fuss about it, he certainly wasn’t going to mention it.  

“And you promised food,” he thought to remind Matsukawa and Hanamaki, just in case they’d forgotten that he was helping them to get a meal out of the deal.

“We already have plans to go to a McDonalds when we’re done.”

Oikawa froze - he was probably breathing though, and that was definitely his heart beating to pump the blood to move in his veins. But the idea of going to McDonalds was still shocking enough to cause a pause for his train of thought.

_“Why?”_ he demanded to know with a prolonged whine.

“Because it’s tradition,” Hanamaki said, his voice remaining the usual pitch, as if he had anticipated Oikawa to bitch about the choice of a restaurant and had already risen above it. “We had McDonalds when we moved our tech to our first office space, and we’ve always had McDonalds when we’d had to move to a new space to accommodate the expansion in staff.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa started their internet business back in high school when it had been nothing but two overheated laptops, operations base in Matsukawa’s parents’ garage at home and running on pennies. Now, it was two CEO’s, the afore mentioned devil’s twins, a staff of about twenty people – the number changed one way or another whenever they took on a new intern or let one go – that kept sprouting like Gremlins after midnight from water, and a large an ever-growing customer base, and now with a big office space in the middle of the industrial area where they’d rented a large... ish warehouse that they’d converted to appear like a proper office filled with computers, and an actual server or two, build into a separate room that they could keep cooled down.

It was impressive how their teenage angst fueled dream had grown and how well they’d adapted into the lifestyle of running their own business. They were doing really well in every sense, and Oikawa was proud and happy for them.

“My labor is worth a lot more than a sorry excuse of a cheese hamburger.”

“We’ll get you the kids’ meal,” Iwaizumi said, deadpan from behind him, carrying in more boxes. “You can pick any toy you want to.”

“Fuck you,” Oikawa stated mildly. “They don’t have the kind of toys that I like.”

“Really?” Matsukawa cast him an unimpressed look. “Sex jokes? Now? Here?”

Oikawa flashed a smirk at Matsukawa. “I love that your mind went there,” he said proudly. “But don’t try and act like you’re above it. I know there’s got to be lube in one of the boxes where you emptied the contents of your desk drawers.”

Matsukawa held the eye contact for moment with a placid look, until it cracked with a smile. “There might be.”

“A-ha,” Oikawa nodded, pleased with himself that he was right.

“Oikawa!” Hanamaki interrupted from the door, cutting him off from mentally patting his own back. “If you don’t help you’re not getting even a packet of ketchup. Get your ass into gear.”

“I need a stick in there for that!” Oikawa replied, but followed Hanamaki out anyway, the silent chuckles from Matsukawa carrying after him.

“I’m too sober for this shit,” Iwaizumi muttered as he caught up with Oikawa and sped past him with quicker pace in his steps, his hand rubbing on his forehead like he had a headache.

“You should’ve come prepared,” Oikawa said, tutting at the unpreparedness of his friend, and got a heavy box thrust at him for it.

He resisted letting the weight show when he carried the box in, acting like it was filled with nothing but air instead of the bricks and big stones that were packed inside it, no doubt.

“Where?” he asked from Matsukawa.

“Anywhere where there’s space.”

Oikawa accepted the answer, and readily dropped the box right in front of him.

“Could you handle our stuff with more care?” Matsukawa asked, frowning at him. “Some of this stuff is really expensive.”

“Sure,” Oikawa agreed easily and sat down on the box. He needed a minute before he’d head back out to the truck again. The box had been heavy, but he knew he could easily carry more them inside without breaking a sweat. First though, he wanted to see if he could trick Iwaizumi into a little competition.

“Iwaizumi says you’re dating someone.”

Oikawa was taken aback by the sudden and out of nowhere intro to a new conversation from Matsukawa. He hadn’t had the chance to come up with a competition where he would undoubtedly beat Iwaizumi. “That’s weird,” he commented, making a face to go with his statement. “Since I’m not dating anyone.”

“Really?” Hanamaki took interest in their conversation, gently placing the box he’d brought in on the floor. “Then what are you doing?”

“Being true to my handsome self,” Oikawa delivered his words with a confident smile, beaming so much he could’ve blinded someone.

Matsukawa gave him a look. “Oikawa, seriously. Iwaizumi says you’ve been seeing someone.”

“Yeah,” Oikawa gave in and admitted. “But it’s just sex.”

Hanamaki chuckled. “Okay, whatever you need to tell yourself.”

“I’m serious,” Oikawa said reproachfully. “We only meet up to have sex.”

Hanamaki’s chuckles died away and he exchanged a look with Matsukawa, a silence falling over them for a brief moment that was over as soon as it had appeared.

“Just sex?” Matsukawa asked when they broke the eye contact.

“Just sex,” Oikawa confirmed. “Where do you want the poster with the kitten?” He let the rolled up poster fall open, maybe trying to divert his friends’ attention somewhere else, and the kitty poster just happened to be the first thing he saw sticking out of a box next to him.

Matsukawa didn’t seem to be so easily distracted, though. “You’re seriously having sex with a guy and there’s nothing... Added to that?”

Oikawa frowned. _Added?_ “Like what?”

“I don’t know?” Matsukawa shrugged, looking lost and seeking help from Hanamaki with a look.

“Feelings?” Hanamaki suggested, sounding uncertain. “You don’t do casual relationships.”

“He’s only been in one relationship, and that lasted for a third of his life,” Iwaizumi joined the conversation, dropping a box on the floor, which appeared to be empty when it barely made any sound as it hit the floor. Or it was filled with bubble wrap, which Oikawa wouldn’t put past his friends.

“Makki’s right,” Iwaizumi continued, fixing Oikawa with a mild scowl. “You don’t do casual relationships.”

“Well maybe it’s exactly what I need then. And it’s not a ‘relationship’ if we only have sex.”

“Okay, I want to get on that relationship –thing in a bit, but first,” Matsukawa turned to Iwaizumi and Hanamaki. “Didn’t the one relationship start with ‘just making out’?”

“Oh yeah!” Hanamaki half-shouted excitedly, an obscure moment of ‘aha’ taking over him when a memory must’ve resurfaced for him. “You said that you two were just making out, that you weren’t serious and that there’s no way you two would ever date.”

“See how that turned out?” Iwaizumi gave Oikawa a meaningful look. “You were together, very seriously I might add if you were considering marrying him, for seven years.”

Oikawa shot Iwaizumi the dirtiest glare he could summon from the dark depths of his soul that was filled with the meanest things he had ever thought. Iwaizumi was privy to some information that not everyone was.

“You were going to marry him?!” Hanamaki shouted, shocked, his expression mimicking the same wide eyes as Matsukawa was sporting. “Did you propose?”

Oikawa continued to death glare Iwaizumi.

“Oh,” Iwaizumi said nonchalantly, like he was mildly surprised, as if someone had just told him that the sun was shining. “You didn’t know about that.”

“No one did,” Oikawa spoked through his teeth. “No one but you.”

“Well,” Iwaizumi shrugged, his scowl a little less pronounced now, like he was trying to look sorry for something he didn’t feel truly sorry for. “They know now.”

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious.”

“Okay,” Matsukawa literally stepped between them, like a referee at a boxing match would. “I get the feeling that you don’t want to talk about this,” he said to Oikawa. “So, let’s backpedal a bit. You say you only have sex with this guy. And okay, you don’t think it’s a relationship because of that. But you’re bound to get to know him more whenever you meet up. Don’t you talk about anything? I bet you know what he does for a living, or a hobby or his favorite music.”

“I don’t know any of those things,” Oikawa said darkly, still shooting daggers at Iwaizumi’s back with his eyes. “We don’t talk.”

“You don’t talk?” Hanamaki asked, his interest unchanged and still tinting his voice. “Is he mute?”

“No.”

“Deaf?”

“No.”

“Blind?”

“How would that impede his talking?” Matsukawa asked from Hanamaki before Oikawa had the chance to repeat his earlier answer. 

“It might, you don’t know,” Hanamaki replied.

“Could you two unpack more of these boxes while you bicker?” Iwaizumi asked in turn, unloading the keyboards from one of the boxes onto a table.

“Maybe,” Hanamaki answered with an elusive smirk. “As long as we can also find out why Oikawa’s sex buddy doesn’t speak.”

“He speaks, we talk.” Oikawa sighed, the air rushing out of his lungs sounding like he’d given up. “We just don’t trade information about ourselves.”

“Okay, fine,” Matsukawa accepted, moving onto help Iwaizumi with the boxes. “At least tell us the guy’s name. It’d be weird to just call him ‘Oikawa’s sex buddy’.”

Oikawa’s hands slowed down in pulling out a long extension cord, his thoughts coming to a screeching halt because –

Well, because he wasn’t sure what kind of ammunition it might be to his friends to find out that he didn’t know the guy’s name.

“How about you don’t call him anything?” he suggested, half-seriously, with a full smirk. He hoped that it would fool his friends from snooping any longer; however, he did catch the sidelong glance Iwaizumi graced him with.

“I kind of like ‘Oikawa’s sex buddy’, though,” Hanamaki mused thoughtfully. “Maybe we could meet him? And then I could tease them too and always call him ‘Oikawa’s sex buddy.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Oikawa stated the obvious, throwing the box he’d emptied near the stack of already empty boxes. He was kind of done now, he thought to himself as he brushed off the dust and dirt that had gathered to his pants. One box carried in, another emptied.

“Why not?”

“My answer is in two parts,” Oikawa held up two fingers. “A: Fuck you,” he turned his hand with his middle finger up, directed at the three humans that he was now regretting calling his friends. “B: Good bye,” he turned his hand back to wave it in the obnoxious way that he knew Iwaizumi hated.

“Nope,” Iwaizumi was quick and grabbed the said hand, preventing him from leaving. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“You promised to help so you have to stay,” Hanamaki said.

“And be subjected to your teasing?” Oikawa asked incredulously and scoffed. “I don’t think so. There isn’t a McDonald’s meal that is worth enduring this torture.”

“We just worry about you,” Matsukawa said softly.

“Well,” Oikawa crossed his arms in front of his chest to give the impression of being offended, when he was secretly a little glad that his friends cared about him. “Don’t. There’s no need to.”

“There is if after two months of sleeping with this guy you don’t know his name.” Iwaizumi said in a low voice, his eyes searching Oikawa’s face for something Oikawa was sure he already knew but needed a confirmation for.

“Wait!” Hanamaki sprang up and whirled to look at Oikawa with excitement, like he’d heard the best news ever, a smile on his face, delivered with a small laugh. “You don’t know his name?” His voice was filled with disbelief, of the excited kind.

“I asked once, he didn’t tell me, so. No. I don’t know his name.” Oikawa stated, his patience grated with how much joy Hanamaki seemed to find in that little nugget of information. Too bad it didn’t come with a sauce and a question of whether they’d like fries with that. “And it doesn’t matter. We just fuck now and then.”

“It’s weird that he won’t tell you his name. Even a fake name,” Iwaizumi said with a disapproving scowl, moving towards the door. “I mean, okay, he doesn’t want to tell you his name because he doesn’t want you to look him up on Facebook or something, or maybe he‘s afraid that you’re going to recognize the name. But why wouldn’t he just give you a fake name?” he asked right before he stepped out, leaving them with his question.

“Wonder what the guy’s trying to hide,” Hanamaki whispered to Matsukawa, loud enough for everyone to hear, and Oikawa was certain that Hanamaki had done so on purpose.

 

 

*

 

 

“When’s the album launch?”

“A launch?” Suga looked at Daichi with an expression filled with hilarity. “It’s not a rocket, Daichi,” he chuckled.

“You know what I mean,” Daichi said, a little exasperated. He ate a bite of chocolate he’d found in Suga’s kitchen, the craving come to him from the movie.

“The release is next Friday,” Suga replied with an easy smile, one that Suga often had on.

Daichi was glad that Suga decided to take mercy on him and cut off on the teasing before he could barely get started with it.

“That’s so soon,” he noted, wondering where the time had gone. It felt like it was just yesterday that Suga told him he’d be leading the production, for the very first time. Daichi had been so proud, and now the album was ready and about to be released for the world to hear. “Is there a big release party then?”

“Of course,” Suga answered with a nod, making it a statement one would usually give during a press conference to the eager reporters.

“Are you going?”

“Naturally.”

Daichi halted, surprised by Suga’s answer.

Suga had made it a point a year or two ago not to attend the parties the company threw, unless he absolutely had to or was extremely compelled to and there was no way for him to get out of it. Not that he didn’t try his hardest to skip the parties.

“Why?” he asked, baffled beyond comprehension.

Suga held up his hand with three fingers up. “Three reasons.”

“Three? You usually only need one – sex.” Daichi interrupted before Suga could continue.

It was the most usual reason for Suga to attend the company’s parties, usually – the possibility of ninety-nine point nine percent that he could find someone to take home with him to fuck. The remaining zero point zero one percent was _someone._

“Yeah,” Suga said slowly, like it should’ve been obvious, and cleared his throat. “But this time it’s three. One, I _have to_ go; two, free alcohol; three, going home with a dick to ride.”

“Of course the sex would be on your list too.”

Suga flashed a grin at Daichi, mischievous and happy. He must’ve felt good about the album, about work well done, and probably proud of himself too, of the work he’d put in.

However, since Suga had three reasons, Daichi wondered on the absence of one particular reason, one that always compelled Suga to go to work functions – _Him._ The one and only person who could easily convince Suga to go to the party, even when he had previously been dead set on not going.

He might’ve asked about it if Suga hadn’t gone off on his explanation, not that Daichi needed to hear one from Suga – he knew his best friend, had him figured out. Or, so Daichi liked to think, but every now and then Suga would surprise him by doing something unexpected, something that might’ve seemed out of character if no one bothered to look deeper into what was behind it.

“I’m only attending because I have to,” Suga went on. “And the only reason I’m not coming up with an excuse not to go – like mad cow disease – is the incentive of free alcohol. Plus, I might have the chance to end the night with some run-of-the-mill sex, so I’m not actively trying to catch the flu.”

Daichi nodded along, listening intently, just in case Suga slipped _him_ in, but when he didn’t hear it, he had to ask.

“And is he going to be there?”

“He?” Suga looked baffled.

Daichi answered with a meaningful look.

“Oh,” Suga caught on quickly and took a deep breath, turning his head away from Daichi and keeping his gaze steadfastly on the tv screen as he spoke, the usual life that his voice carried, subdued. “He didn’t work on this project, or album, so maybe not, but it’s a companywide party, so probably.”

Daichi noted the blush on Suga’s cheek, and he would’ve found best friend’s crush adorable if it wasn’t so painfully consuming for him.

“At least try to have some fun,” he suggested softly, his heart going out to his friend.

“I think the alcohol will take care of that,” Suga flashed a grin at him, the earlier tepidness gone in a speed of light, like he hadn’t just awkwardly hypothesized on the attendance of his crush.

Daichi chuckled, agreeing with Suga how alcohol could make things more fun.

“And try to sneak out a canapé for me,” he thought to add for more fun.

“I will guard it with my life until I get it to you,” Suga promised, smiling fully like himself again.

Daichi was relieved to see it, and decided to move on to nicer things, things he _could_ tease Suga about. “You’re free for your birthday then? It’s the Friday after that.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Suga said thoughtfully, before his face was overtaken by a slowly growing smile. “Unless I get a horribly contagious disease that leaves me bedridden for days,” he said ominously with a devious smile.

“You’re not getting sick to skip your birthday,” Daichi disapproved. “Besides, if you get sick then, we’ll just postpone the party to a later date.” It was that easy. There was no way he would let Suga skip on turning twenty-five.

“At least I won’t be getting older then.”

“You have a Peter Pan complex.”

“Yes,” Suga deadpanned. “I’ve been told. By you. Multiple times.”

“And you still refuse to get older.”

“Mm-hm,” Suga hummed in confirmation, his eyes taking on a mischievous look. “How’s Kuroo?”

Daichi’s face dropped. He should’ve considered the possibility that Suga would tease him back.

“He’s fine,” Daichi answered with a sigh, reluctant. Not about Kuroo’s condition – never! If Kuroo was happy, he was happy – but about answering to Suga’s tease.

“And still dense?”

“I don’t think that’s a fair assessment,” Daichi said with a frown. “He’s very attuned to his boyfriends.”

“But not to your crush on him,” Suga said in the kindest way anyone could ever point out something unpleasant, his voice soft and sympathetic.

“It’s fine,” Daichi lied. It wasn’t fine. He was just... “I’m used to it. And this is better anyway. It would just make things more complicated if he knew.”

“Right,” Suga might’ve sounded like he agreed with him, but Daichi couldn’t help but think that he didn’t quite.

 

 

*

 

 

_... if I never told you how much I love you?_

 

 

 


	5. 220815

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Trigger warning **  
> Mention of suicide
> 
> So, if you're easily triggered, tread carefully. It comes up in the second scene, with Suga and Daichi, when it cuts away from Iwa and Oikawa, and comes up again one more time pretty soon after Kuroo pops up. You should be safe once Beauty and the Beast is mentioned. Other than that, the chapter is just everyone being childish and pretending to be funny
> 
>  
> 
> In other news!  
> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments and bookmarks and subscriptions and for deciding to click on this fic to give it a read! You're all stars in the nightsky, brightening my days during daylight hours even when I can't see them, and I love you all <3

 

 

 

The summer was almost over, the autumn just about starting to fall over the city, but still hovering in that middle space where it clearly didn’t know if it was ready to let summer go.  

Oikawa had decided to spend the summer away from the city, accepting his brother’s invitation to join his family at the beach house.

It had been nice there – less stifling than what he was sure the summer would’ve been had he spent it suffocating in the heat of the city.

But also boring as hell.

He hadn’t been able to see his fuckbuddy at all for three months, and he was kind of anxious to get to it. To have sex. To have his mind blown by the amazing sex that he had with a man that he knew nothing about.

And yes, you should’ve caught the exasperation on that one.

 

”Who are you texting?” Iwaizumi interrupted his deep thoughts as he tried to figure out how to subtly but with clear intentions let his fuckbuddy know he was back in town, and would be available for some fucking, if the man felt inclined to let him do the fucking with him.

Oh, how eloquent.

Oikawa hated how out of touch he was with his sexting abilities. It really had been a while since he’d have to appear smooth over text, and he would never admit it out loud, he’d literally rather die, but he was struggling with finding the right words and right order to put them in to sound like he was horny without saying it outright. It should all be in the context, detectable between the lines.

 

**Hot Piece of Ass as Iwa likes to call him:** I am so confused right now

 

”No one,” Oikawa replied, and smirked right after when his fingers quickly typed a reply to the message he’d just gotten.

**I meant, are you busy tonight?**

 

“Hot Piece of Ass?”

“Maybe.”

 

**Hot Piece of Ass as Iwa likes to call him:** If you want to come over just say so

**Hot Piece of Ass as Iwa likes to call him:** You don’t need to play games with me

**Hot Piece of Ass as Iwa likes to call him:** If you want sex, just say so

 

“You know his name yet?”

Oikawa didn’t answer on purpose.

“You should ask him again. Maybe now he’ll tell you, since you’ve been fucking for months now.”

“Hm, maybe,” Oikawa considered, his thumb absently tapping on the side of his cell phone as he took his time to reply. Maybe he should ask the man’s name the next time he’d go over.

“Does he know your name?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should introduce yourself. Then he’ll introduce himself.”

“Maybe.”

 

**Hot Piece of Ass as Iwa likes to call him:** Do you want to come over?

**Hot Piece of Ass as Iwa likes to call him:** Do you want to have sex with me?

 

“Are you two exclusive?”

Oikawa scrunched his brow at the question, distraught how out of the blue it came. How simple an answer ‘no’ would be, but how it made him feel that maybe it should be ‘yes’.

“I’m not sure.”

“Maybe you should be sure?”

Oikawa dropped the hand that was holding his cell phone to his lap to shoot a nasty glare at Iwaizumi for all his annoying badgering. “Maybe you should rename this chapter “Maybe it’s a chapter of maybes”.”

“Stop trying to be funny. You’re not.”

“Fuck you, I’m hilarious.” Oikawa brought his cell phone up again, to appear busy, to ignore Iwaizumi and make a show of it, while also wondering what to answer to the man.

“Knock, knock,” Iwaizumi said lifelessly.

“Stop.”

“Who’s there?”

“I said stop.”

“Your love life, coming to beat your ass.”

“It sure is,” Oikawa smirked, unable to help himself not to.

Iwaizumi groaned. “Why are you like this?”

“Let me live.”

 

**Yes**

 

He decided to reply to the man. It shouldn’t have even been something for him to ponder about. He wanted to go over his place and have sex with him. He’d been without sex for months, if he didn’t count that one night during the summer when he hooked up with some guy from the neighboring beach house at some weird potluck kind of thing that was thrown at the nearby communal beach.

“Are you being safe, though?”

“I’m insulted.”

“Why?” Iwaizumi asked in a voice that indicated the unspoken words “this time”, like it was a normal occurrence for Oikawa to be offended.

Oikawa raised his eyebrow in disbelief. “Do you really think I’m stupid enough to forgo protection when I’m having sex with someone I barely know?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi answered, like it should be obvious.

“Wow, I can really feel the love.”

“Well, you should. I’m actually worrying here.”

“Thanks, _Mom,”_ Oikawa said sarcastically, fully conscious of the fact that he’d never have any kind of discussion about sex with his mother. “But I don’t need the safe sex talk. I’ve been in a sexually active relationship before and managed to not get pregnant.”

He saw Iwaizumi’s lips twitch, fighting off a smile. He already knew what was coming.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Iwaizumi asked with a smirk threatening to twist his usual scowl.

“Shut up.”

Iwaizumi chuckled lightly, placing the last card on top of the others. “I just want you to be aware, and conscious of the fact that if he’s having multiple partners to have sex, it increases the chances of contacting an STI.”

“Fully aware,” Oikawa stated. “You can thank me for coming to your TED talk now.”

Iwaizumi flicked the abandoned and empty can of beer of the table at Oikawa, who laughed at his own cleverness. He turned his phone over in his hand to glance at the text he’d gotten, already knowing what it would be.

 

**Hot Piece of Ass as Iwa likes to call him:** I’ll be home in an hour

 

Oikawa nodded to himself. He could hang with Iwaizumi for another hour and then head towards the man’s place.

 

**Hot Piece of Ass as Iwa likes to call him:** Bring lube

 

_Yeah,_ Oikawa thought to himself as he sighed while he put the phone away again. Maybe he really should ask the man about his name. Maybe he really should ask whether they were exclusive or not.

He felt a funny tug at his insides, a swift twinge, perhaps a poke of jealousy as he came up with reasons for why the man was out of lube.

 

 

 

*

 

 

“I still can’t believe you managed to get out of your own birthday party,” Daichi said, disbelief strong in his voice.

“It was two months ago, Daichi,” Suga said with a light tinkle of a laugh, faintly carrying from his bedroom and through the gap of the almost closed door. “You have to get over it.”

“But I just can’t believe it,” Daichi repeated, noticing the familiar phrase he’d used on Suga just two months ago about something that he really wasn’t going to bring up now. It had been two blissful Frozen-free months, and he was not about to break that.

“I’m making up for it now, though,” Suga said as he emerged from his bedroom. “I’m buying everyone fries at the bar.”

“I think the fries were the only reason that you got anyone to come.”

“Or why so many declined,” Suga chuckled, putting his wallet and phone in his pockets.

“Probably,” Daichi acknowledged. “I’m just glad I can finally sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you.”

“I don’t get why it’s such a big deal for you. I only turned one day older then, like I do every day.”

“It’s a milestone, Suga,” Daichi said with exasperation. 

“I’m only twenty-five. It doesn’t feel like a milestone –kind of age to me. Fifty, maybe.”

“It’s a milestone.”

“I’ll remember this when it’s your birthday and you bitch about us making it a big deal,” Suga threatened with a bright smile.

Daichi chuckled, having no doubts that Suga would remember to do so.

“I’m serious, Suga. Every year is a milestone.” He smiled warmly at Suga. “For you,” he added softly, not sure why he even let it the words past his lips.

Suga’s gaze softened, and in a second he looked somber.

“I’m sorry,” Daichi apologized immediately, going over to Suga to hug him, holding his arms tight around his best friend to offer comfort. “I’m just so glad that you’re still here.”

“I know,” Suga mumbled against his neck, his arms winding around Daichi, his hand grabbing onto the material of Daichi’s shirt over his shoulder. “Me too.” He squeezed Daichi tighter for a second before he let go. “Should we go now? So we’re not late for the kind-of-get-together to sort-of-celebrate my birthday, a birthday that didn’t even really happen.”

Daichi brushed Suga’s hair behind his ear, his eyes following his fingers that softly brushed on Suga’s skin. “It happened Suga,” he said, meeting Suga’s eyes, his hand ending up on Suga’s shoulder and squeezing it a little as he spoke. “Just because you weren’t there to witness it because you conveniently got a flu, which, by the way, who has flu in middle of summer, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

“So,” Suga elongated the word, his eyes slightly narrowed as he was deep in thought. “What you’re saying is that even though I didn’t see Hercules lose his powers, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen?”

“Hercules is just a story, Suga. It didn’t actually happen.”

“You’re contradicting yourself right now,” Suga stated.

Daichi wanted to groan with exasperation, but he merely tipped his head back to gaze up at the ceiling. “You’re unbelievable.”

He brought his chin back down to look at Suga when he heard his soft laughter, to see how it lit up his face.

 

 

*

 

 

“Alright,” Kuroo stood up as he slammed his hands on the tabletop. “Suga, your drinks are on me tonight.”

“That’s okay, Kuroo. I’m not drinking tonight.”

“What?”

“Why not?”

“I can’t,” Suga only said with a small shake of his head, his gaze lowered.

Daichi shot Kuroo a look and motioned with his head for him to take everyone to the bar to order their drinks, to leave him alone with Suga for a bit.

“Are you on meds again?” Daichi asked when he felt that everyone had moved far away enough to not overhear them over the chatter of the other patrons at the bar.

Suga nodded, just a small curt move of his head.

“I thought you said you were okay. I don’t want you to feel like you have to lie to me about that.”

“I wasn’t, Daichi. I wasn’t lying,” Suga shook his head, looking genuine and sounding almost desperate for Daichi to believe him. “I think my therapist just needed to meet a quota of the medication he’s prescribing. They’re not even that strong. I just can’t drink alcohol while I’m on them.”

Daichi sighed as he processed what Suga said, and believed him about being okay, not about the doctor meeting a quota for medication.

“Don’t the doctors realize how easy it is for depressed people to kill themselves when they prescribe the pills when it could kill their patients if they just have a little alcohol with it?” he asked, not really from Suga, but still from him.

“Don’t they realize how easy it is for them to try and kill themselves by just taking all the meds they’re prescribed?” Suga asked back, his tone dark and deprecating.

Daichi sucked in a breath, the unpleasant image of Suga in a coma in a hospital bed coming back to him, uninvited and intrusive.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking when I asked,” he apologized, his words a little rushed as he hurried to say them, for the second time that day to his best friend.

Shit, what was going on with him today? He was upsetting his best friend, the most important person in his life, left and right.

“It’s okay, Daichi,” Suga assured him, patting his forearm. “If I can joke about it, you can joke about it,” he said with a small smile.

“But I don’t want to joke about it.”

This really wasn’t anything for him to joke about.

“Let’s just forget about it then,” Suga suggested, real fondness in his expression and tone of voice.

Daichi nodded, accepting it. “Yeah, let’s,” he sighed, heavy and long. “Promise to make it to your fiftieth birthday and be happy about it?” he asked with a hopeful smile. And maybe teasing Suga a little too.

He knew why Suga joked about it – it was easier to cope with it that way. And he had fallen into that same method of coping too. He just hated that he had to use it over and over again, as if that really made anything easier.

“I’ll be there to wish you happy birthday when you turn hundred,” Suga promised with a bright smile, his head a little tilted to the side when he was being truly happy, his gaze soft and warm. “And to celebrate it, we’re going to watch Frozen.”

Daichi had no doubt that Suga would force him to sit through the movie one more time, just to maybe finally kill him with it.

“Here,” Kuroo set a drink in front of Daichi on the table as he slipped into the booth, coming back at a perfect moment, almost conveniently. “I made Semi make you virgin Sangria,” he said to Suga, pushing another glass forward to him.

“Isn’t that just juice?” Suga asked with amusement, turning the glass Kuroo slid in front of him with his hand as he looked at the pretty yellowish color of the drink inside.

“Yes, and you’re going to love it,” Kuroo said defiantly, as if daring Suga to try and defy him. “I wanted to pay for your drinks tonight, and I’m going to. And since apparently water is free, although Semi didn’t seem opposed to charging _me_ for that, I decided on Sangria.”

“Thank you,” Suga said gracefully, taking a sip. “It’s good.”

Kuroo beamed proudly as Bokuto slipped into the booth too with two drinks, one of which must’ve been for Kuroo, followed by Kenma and Yaku and three servings of fries.

“What’s mine?” Daichi inquired, taking a sip from the straw.

“It’s pink and it’s pretty and that’s all you need to know about it.”

Daichi eyed Kuroo with mistrust. “Did you tell Semi this was for me?”

“Yes,” Kuroo grinned.

Daichi groaned, loud and drawn out, letting his head drop back and then forward to bang on the table.

“Look at that, a physical embodiment of ‘extra’,” Suga mused, sipping his drink.

“Shut up,” Daichi replied in a disgruntled mumble, although feeling amused, nudging Suga with his shoulder. “Or I’ll make you sit through Beauty and the Beast again.”

Suga looked at him like he wanted to murder him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Really?” Daichi challenged. “You made me watch Frozen with you twenty-one times. Twenty-one, Suga!”

“And you sang along to every song since the third time just to annoy me,” Suga said lightly. “I’d rather watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.”

“That’s because you liked it,” Daichi pointed out while laughing.

“Wait, wait, wait?” Bokuto interrupted. “You watched Frozen too?”

“Ho ho ho,” Kuroo chuckled next to him.

“Oh no,” Daichi and Suga said at the same time, turning their heads in tandem to look at the enthusiastic man. Bokuto loved Disney movies, something about them uplifting him, making him positive and putting him in good mood, reminding him of his sweet childhood or some sappy bullshit like that. They were very anti-Bokuto when it came to discussing Disney movies. Because he absolutely loved them and wasn’t shy about defending them.

“I fucking love that movie! Wasn’t Olaf just the best?” Bokuto asked eagerly, looking between them like it was his birthday and he got the best gift ever – because he knew that they couldn’t stand his love for Disney, and he liked to torment them.

“I hate you so much right now,” Suga said in a low undertone, spoken from the side of his mouth, to Daichi, who downed the drink, gulping down the pink concoction that was almost illegally sweet for something with so much alcohol in it, as if it was poison apple that could grant him the sleep of hundred years, maybe even more if the prince wouldn’t come and interrupt the sleep with some forced kissing.

Oh, no, wrong movie reference.

Anyway...

Bokuto started to sing “Let it go”, quite loudly, attracting the attention from the nearby tables, and Kuroo started to croon along with him, making wide sweeping hand gestures as if they were casting ice spells all over the place. Before they reached the end of the chorus, they seamlessly transitioned to “In Summer”.

Daichi kind of wanted to make use of the excellent chance to have some blackmail material, and pulled his cell phone out to film the two give the performance of their lives. And maybe it wasn’t just for blackmail, he thought to himself as the recording was focused on Kuroo in the middle and Bokuto to the side. It was hard to believe that they weren’t drunk yet. However, apparently he wasn’t the only one with the idea of blackmail, as Yaku flipped his cell phone out too.

“Anyway,” Yaku said loudly over the singing. “Why were you watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? I thought you only mock the movies you hate.”

“We don’t discriminate movies based on whether we like them or not,” Suga explained patiently.

“It was surprisingly good,” Daichi said, focusing on keeping his hand steady as he recorded the off-key performance.

“But isn’t that the remake one with Johnny Depp?”

“Yep,” Daichi answered at the same time with Suga.

“Why would you watch it? And why would you like it?”

“Because the original didn’t have enough nightmare fuel, and the remake fixed that problem,” Daichi delivered deadpan.

“You actually liked it?” Yaku asked again, just as Kuroo and Bokuto acted out melting into puddles of water on the booth seat when the song came to an end, or what they remembered of the lyrics. “Why?”

“It has animal cruelty, child endangerment, at least three cannibalism jokes,” Suga listed off. “What’s not to love?” he asked as sarcastically as anyone ever could.

“I just think it’s fun to see a kids movie turn into a horror film,” Daichi offered his own opinion with a noncommittal shrug, zooming in on Kuroo’s face before he cut off the recording and put his cell phone away. “I’m going to get another drink,” he said then to the table at large. “Does anyone else want something?”

“I’ll have more juice,” Suga said with an impish grin.

“Sure,” Daichi nodded and got up.

“Put Suga’s drink on my tab!” Kuroo shouted after him.

Daichi wove through the bar to the bar counter. “Hey Semi,” he greeted the bartender. “Can I have another whatever it was you made me and Suga wants more of the juice.”

Semi nodded and started on the drinks right away.

Daichi took the opportunity to people watch as he waited, leaning his arm to the counter and letting his eyes roam around the space.

“How’s Suga doing?” Semi’s question brought his attention back to the barman.

“He’s doing okay,” Daichi answered, leaning both his arms on the counter to engage better with his old roommate.

“I’m just asking since he’s not apparently drinking alcohol tonight?”

“Yeah, he’s trying really hard to get better,” Daichi nodded, his eyes following Semi’s hands as they poured liquid after another into a low glass. “It’s been almost three years. I just wish he didn’t have to _try,_ that he could just _be._ Better.”

“Hm, I know,” Semi agreed, his expression unchanged as he placed the finished drink in front of Daichi and started with the other. “At least you managed to convince him to celebrate his birthday.”

“Wasn’t easy. He skipped out on it for two months.”

Semi let out a short breath of amusement, one side of his mouth lifting slightly in a smile. “I remember when he turned twenty, and he somehow convinced all of us that the date was already the fourteenth, instead of thirteenth.”

Daichi shook his head with disbelief. “I still have no idea how he did it.”

“Tell him happy birthday for me,” Semi said genuinely as he placed Suga’s drink in front of him as well. “I told Kuroo to say that too but I have a feeling he forgot.”

“Yeah, he did,” Daichi confirmed with a smile as he took the glasses, with no doubt that Kuroo had done so on purpose. “Put these on his tab.”

Semi nodded, and turned to put the alcohol he’d used away while Daichi returned back to the table.

“No, the trolls made no sense!” he heard Suga say as he got closer to their table, and chuckled with exasperation that someone had let Suga rant about Frozen.

“What do you mean they didn’t make sense?” Bokuto asked with an affronted expression. “They explain the magic to the common humans, they saved lives, they set up Anna with Sven, they fucking ROLL TO GET TO PLACES! I mean, how awesome is that?”

“Oh, Bokuto,” Suga reached across the table and placed his hands on both sides of Bokuto’s head. “You sweet, innocent child.”

“Shut up,” Bokuto said with a smile, not moving away from Suga’s touch, but letting it happen like he was pleased about it, actually liked how easily tactile Suga was with him, even with the slight blush crawling on his cheeks and down his neck.

And let’s face it. Everyone loved how touchy Suga was when he cared.

And he cared a lot.

Daichi put the glasses down on the table as he slid next to Suga, bumping to his side to let him know he was back.

“Thank you,” Suga beamed at him, letting go of Bokuto.

“Semi says happy birthday.”

“Thank you, Semi!” Suga turned in his seat to shout across the bar. “I hate you too!”

Daichi glanced towards the counter to catch any sign of change in Semi’s expression, and there might’ve been the briefest flicker of a smile. But then again, it could’ve just been because he was flirting with the customer sitting by the bar in front of him that he was currently serving.

“Hey, guys,” Inuoka approached their table with hesitant steps, one hand holding a bottle of beer, the other stuffed into his jeans’ pocket, trailed by Hinata.

“What’s up?” Suga asked with a warm smile, reaching to ruffle Hinata’s hair affectionately.  

“Inuoka has a question,” Hinata announced with his usual zeal, preening under Suga’s affection.

“Go ahead,” Yaku prompted for him to elaborate.

“Okay,” Inuoka forced out a sharp exhale. “So, I’ve been seeing this girl –“

He was cut off with loud boos from the table.

“Okay, you need to get over the hate for straight people,” he stated, reeling back a little and defensively holding his free hand up.

“I really don’t think so,” Bokuto disagreed, slinging his arm over Kuroo’s head to rest on his shoulders.

“What’s wrong with straight people?” Hinata asked, sounding utterly confused.

“They lower the percentage of the people I’ve hit on that have then fucked me,” Suga said nonchalantly, the whole table falling into still silence.

Daichi let out a laugh, a weird ‘pfft’ sound when he wasn’t able to open his mouth to let it out in time.

The others joined him with their own quiet chuckles, or loud raucous laughter, or a small hint of a smile á la Kenma.

“Anyway,” Inuoka sighed, trying to pick up where he’d left off. “I’ve been seeing this girl –“

“Boo!”

“Guys, come on! I like this girl, but she says that she’s been seeing someone else too, is that bad?”

The table fell silent again as everyone actually seemed to consider the question.

“I can’t believe I’m about to mom you,” Yaku said as he shook his head, his gaze lowered, looking like he was clearly disappointed.

“How about you don’t.” Inuoka held their hand up, palm open towards Yaku like he was stopping him, and turned towards the others. “What do you guys think?”

“As long as you don’t fall in love with someone who is married, I wouldn’t worry,” Kuroo advised nonchalantly.

Too nonchalantly in Daichi’s opinion, as he shot a warning look at the man, but only a quick glare so he could keep his eyes on Suga to catalogue what was going on is his head, to check on him and how the comment affected him.

“I’m a cautionary tale?” Suga asked, aghast and shocked, appalled and horrified, and kind of proud. “Shoot me,” he deadpanned then, meeting Daichi’s eyes.

Daichi raised his hand in a gesture of a gun, said “bang” as unenthusiastically as he could, and got his lap full of limp Suga, of his upper body slumped over his legs.

Daichi couldn’t help the faint chuckle that escaped him at his friend’s antics, but sobered with his next inhale, and shot a disapproving glare at Kuroo for his earlier comment. Inuoka made the wise choice of slowly inching away from their table, while Hinata crawled under their table and popped up between Kenma and Kuroo.

Kuroo caught the glare this time, and made an exaggerated wince, mouthing “sorry” to him, and then voicing it out. “Sorry, Suga.”

“It’s okay,” Suga said as he straightened, lifting his weight off of Daichi. “As long as my dog is happy, I’m happy,” he said with a small smile, his arms folded on the table.

“Suga,” Daichi turned to his friend with a sympathetic and a little bit exasperated look. “You don’t have a dog.”

Suga reared back, as if slapped by Daichi’s comment. “I so do!”

Daichi blinked at Suga, unimpressed. “Nintendogs doesn’t count.”

“Dog-hater,” Suga pouted, crossing his arms in front of his chest and turning his face away from Daichi.

“Neither does Neko Atsume.”

“Those are cats.”

“A pet is a pet,” Daichi shrugged.

“We can’t be friends anymore.”

“Do you still have that spider living under your sink in the bathroom?”

“Yeah.”

“That one doesn’t count either.”

“Daichi!” Suga mock-wailed, shaking his arm.

Daichi chuckled, letting Suga shake his arm, and him by extension. It was a relief to see Suga with a smile after Kuroo’s earlier thoughtless comment. It was a relief to see that Suga’s unreciprocated feelings didn’t pain him as much as they used to.

“You know,” Yaku spoke up, drawling a little as if he was deep in thought, resting his chin on his hand. “I really don’t get it why you two don’t date each other.”

Daichi frowned at Yaku’s comment.

“You clearly get along really well, you really get each other, you care about each other. I don’t get it.”

“The romantic feelings just aren’t there,” Daichi shrugged, unperturbed and full of facts. “Right?” He looked next to him, to Suga, who had his gaze lowered to his cell phone, the earlier banter-induced smile gone.

“Right,” Suga nodded, just a small movement of his head. Daichi was worried for a second at Suga’s faint response until he lifted his gaze up with a bright smile.

Satisfied that he and Suga still remained on the same page on their friendship, Daichi turned back to look at Yaku, who was looking between the two of them, his eyes moving from left to right to left and a couple of more times right and then left again.

“Okay,” Yaku seemed to accept their answer, and moved on to another topic with Kenma, who ignored him, and Hinata, who was raptly listening and nodding along.

Daichi tuned them out and glanced at Suga again, hoping to see the same easy and kind smile still on Suga’s face, the one he usually had on when surrounded by friends.

But was letdown, and concerned, to see Suga blinking rapidly at the cell phone again, his face blank except for the slight downturn of the corners of his lips, and the next second quickly typing something.

“Someone need you?” Daichi asked quietly, so not to pull attention to them from the others.

“Kind of,” Suga replied, his fingers typing up another quick and short reply on his phone.

“The dangerous one who disappeared for the summer?”

“Yeah,” Suga exhaled with his answer, pocketing his phone, leaning a little to the side, closer to Daichi to accomplish the small movement of tugging the device away. “Do you mind if I go?” He looked at Daichi with a smile.

“No, of course not,” Daichi said quickly, shaking his head a little with a small chuckle, amused that Suga was asking his permission, as if Suga ever needed one from him.

Suga smiled softly at him and pulled him into a warm hug. “Thank you for the birthday party. I hated it,” he said into the hug.

Daichi couldn’t help but laugh at Suga’s offhanded statement, one he knew he didn’t actually mean at all, holding Suga tightly in his arms, his chin over Suga’s shoulder, fitting into the crook there so perfectly. 

Suga leaned back to look at Daichi. “I can’t believe I’m twenty-five now.”

“So you admit it then? That you’re a year older than you were last year?”

“Nah, I’m just all juiced up.”

“Just admit that you liked the sort-of-celebration in the honor of you turning twenty-five.”

“Never,” Suga defied. “And I’m going to go Inigo Montoya on your ass for revenge for this party when it’s your birthday.”

Daichi laughed, and let his arms fall away from Suga as he drew away, sliding out of the booth. He gave a small wave to others to let them know he was leaving.

“What?” Kuroo looked up from Kenma’s game with surprise, his head lifting off of Bokuto’s shoulder. “Did you get a better offer from someone else?”

“Something like that,” Suga replied, already walking away.

Daichi looked after him, worried but understanding and fully of sympathy. And glad that Suga seemed to leave with a smile.

“Is he okay?” Kuroo brought him back from his consuming mix of worries and relief.

“Yeah,” Daichi said with an assuring smile. “He just left to cope.”

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” Kuroo said earnestly, and Daichi believed him. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“You never do,” Yaku said with a little too much snap in his voice.

“He’s fine,” Daichi reassured them. “He’s coping.”

“By fucking every man that has a valid gay card.” Kenma stated without any infliction in his voice, leaning over the table to sip his drink through the straw without lifting his eyes from his game.

Daichi didn’t say anything to that – he didn’t have anything to say to that! Objectively, Kenma wasn’t wrong. But he knew that Kenma, just like anyone who called themselves Suga’s friend, was worried about Suga, and they all handled and exhibited their worry differently.

 

 

*

 

 

“Hey,” Oikawa said but had to stop to clear his throat and start over again. “Hey, can I ask –“ he was forced to stop to let out a moan as the man took him all in.

“Can I ask you something?” he rushed the words out at the first chance he got, before he forgot what he wanted to ask.

The man drew another long and low moan out of him, his hands white knuckling the sheet he laid on, as he sucked along his length, his eyes looking up to Oikawa from behind the hair that had fallen over his forehead.

“Sure,” the man agreed fairly easily, licking his lips, straightening up a little, but still remaining in his kneeled position between Oikawa’s legs.

Oikawa got the gut-sinking feeling that the man had no expectations of how deep and loaded his question might be.

Oikawa swallowed, and pulled himself up to sit so he could lean back on his hands. “Have you fucked others while we’ve been fucking? I mean, have you been with other people the days when we haven’t hooked up?”

“Yes,” the man answered, somehow delivering the statement in the nicest way anyone had ever said anything to Oikawa.

Oikawa kept his face blank as he processed the answer. The man had had sex with others.

They weren’t exclusive.

Good, that was good. That was good. That. Was. Good.

For some reason Oikawa felt the need to repeat it to himself multiple times until it started to sink in. Barely. Like oil poured on a pot of water.

“Can I go back to sucking you?” the man interrupted, halting his processing. Oikawa saw his eyes flick down and up as he looked at his dick still standing in attention.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead,” Oikawa grinned and fell on his back.

Only to sprung up to sit right after.

“What?” The man’s eyes were wide, innocent but not surprised. Like he was genuinely intrigued to know why Oikawa had sat up so suddenly.

“We’re not exclusive then?” For some reason, Oikawa really needed a confirmation for that.

“No?” the man looked confused. “Were we supposed to be?”

“No!” Oikawa shouted, smoothly. “No, no. No. I was just wondering, because I’ve hooked up with others too.”

With that one guy that happened to be gay, for that one time only.

“Cool,” the man shrugged like he really was totally cool with it. “So, can I...?” he trailed off, gesturing down with a small flick of his chin.

“Yeah, yes. Of course.” Oikawa lay back down. He closed his eyes to focus on his senses – on the touch of the man’s hands, the lick of his tongue and heat of his mouth, the slight scrape of his teeth, the coil in his gut wounding tighter and tighter – instead of the twinge of jealousy inside his chest over the fact that the man had been with others too.

 

 

 

*

 

 

Oikawa stepped out of the elevator and walked slowly towards the front door of the apartment building, idly paying little attention to his surroundings, already seen everything there was to see before on his earlier visits.

His eyes caught the mailboxes, the board by the front door that had the tenants names, the dent in the wall where something with a corner must’ve hit, the –

Oikawa’s steps halted, hesitantly coming to a stop.

The tenants names on the board. How the hell was this the first time he’d noticed it? How was it possible for him to bypass it time after time without giving it the attention it absolutely deserved? For being a crucial plot point, he should’ve noticed the board a long time ago, or come to think of it as a way to find out the man’s name months ago.

He just rationalized it to himself that he had been tired, it had been dark, he had been too clouded in the post-sex haze to really pay attention to his surroundings before.

But now...

He glanced over his shoulder, looking at the board and biting his lips, and turned around, taking a couple of steps closer to it.

_Apartment fifty-four, apartment fifty-four, apartment fifty-four..._

His eyes ran along the long list of names, the apartment numbers.

Sugawara

Apartment fifty-four, Sugawara

Oikawa hummed silently as he memorized the name. It didn’t really tell him much, it was just a name, and not even the full name.

Sugawara wasn’t a lot to go on, but it was a start at something that Oikawa was a little hesitant to pursue further.

If the man didn’t want him to know anything about him, maybe he shouldn’t actively try and snoop for information.

Maybe

Oikawa continued on his way, deep in thought about the man shrouded in mystery, about the possibility of how he might one day come and unravel it.

 

 

*

 

 

_If I don’t grow up, the time won’t pass, and I won’t regret every single day when I didn’t tell you how I feel_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be a SHORT thing about Suga's background...  
> Next one moves forward on the OiSuga front :)


	6. 031015

 

 

_No matter how busy I am, I always have time for you_

 

 

_*_

 

 

Buried balls deep inside someone wasn’t the moment to have an existential moment.

But that was what Oikawa was experiencing when he caught himself almost shouting the man’s name in the ecstasy of the orgasm that wrenched through his body.

_Sugawara_

He’d figured that it wouldn’t be smart to say the name aloud in the man’s presence, since the man was yet to introduce himself. He didn’t even want to entertain any scenarios inside his head of how that might go. It would probably be one of two – either the man would freak out and demand to know how Oikawa had learned his name, or he would just shrug it off, like he’d expected Oikawa to find out.

“You okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Oikawa gasped out, now fallen backwards on his back on the bed, catching his breath. “Why?”

He tilted his head into an angle where he could see the man, _Sugawara,_ who was lying on his stomach, his legs splayed out as his knees must’ve slid from beneath him when he had been spent and holding himself up was too much effort and energy, neither of which he probably didn’t have when he’d just come.

The man, _Sugawara,_ Oikawa kept reminding himself, met his eyes over his shoulder, an achievement worth mentioning when it was so dark inside the room with no lights on. “You went quiet when you came. It’s unusual,” he said, not really expressing any concern, seeming more curious than anything else, and only subtly so.

“You’re usually very loud when you unload into me.”

Oikawa sputtered at the way Sugawara could sound so casual and matter-of-fact when he said the most obscene things.

“I just remembered you mentioning something about your neighbors and how they probably hate you.”

Sugawara hummed. “That’s considerate of you. Although, I checked with them, and they said they hadn’t heard any loud noises during nights. I guess the walls are thick enough not to let any noise through.”

“You checked?” Oikawa raised himself on his elbows to appear more incredulous than just his voice would indicate. “Did you just casually go over to them and ask if they’ve heard any sex sounds?”

“No,” Sugawara answered like it was ridiculous what Oikawa had suggested. He raised himself on his arms and knees and sat up, facing Oikawa. “I went over to apologize for any noise during the nights, and explained that I work late. They said they’d never heard anything. Although,” he paused to reach over to the small table by the bed for some tissues. “The lady to my right,” he pointed quickly with his index finger to the wall, “seemed like she’d enjoy it if she heard us having sex.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The fact that she hit on me? She pinched my butt?”

Oikawa smirked, wishing to have Sugawara’s ass at an easy access to pinch it.

“You know those old ladies who just don’t give a shit anymore of what is considered polite or decent or how lewd someone might find their behavior? She’s one of those.”

Oikawa chuckled, and ran his hand through his hair to make sure it was still as immaculate as always as he sat up. His eyes hit the spot where Sugawara had come, and somehow it shut down the part of his brain that controlled his filter.

“You’re doing a lot of laundry these days,” he commented, just to have something to say, it would seem. He wasn’t even sure why he mentioned laundry, or the dirty sheets they were lying in.

He’d learned months ago that Sugawara wasn’t big on post-coital talk, and he had a feeling that if the man could, he’d have that reduced down to zero as well as the post-coital snuggles. However, Sugawara seemed always content to just listen to him talk. With the story about apologizing to his neighbors, though, Oikawa was certain he’d already hit it pretty close to the max on the level of ‘how soon can I kick this man out of my apartment’.

“I don’t mind,” Sugawara replied with a tiny shrug. “I have a washer and dryer.”

Well, that was... “Convenient.”

Sugawara fell back so his head hit the pillows. “I got them on purpose,” he began to speak to the ceiling, one of his hands twirling a strand of his hair around his fingers. “The laundromat that I used to frequent always had this judgmental lady there, and I mean always. She was there so often, I was convinced she lived there. I was amazed she even had enough laundry to be there that much. Anyway, she always gave my laundry this speculative look with a sneer, like she knew what I’d done last night and didn’t approve, and was probably racking up the numbers inside her head of how many times I’d already washed my sheets there that month.”

A soft smile had slowly spread on Oikawa’s face as he listened to the man talk – this was the most he’d heard the man say. This was the closest thing the man had said that had a feeling of personal information or personal life in it.

This was progress.

Oikawa placed one of his legs over the other so his ankles were crossed, and leaned back on his hands as he settled to listen for more.

“One day when she saw me come in and put the sheets in the washing machine, I actually heard her ‘tsk’ and saw her shake her head. And that was it. The next day I went out and found a new apartment, one where I could place a washer and dryer. And... Here I am.”

The smile on Oikawa’s face had morphed into a wan version of it as he listened. As personal as the story was, it was told in a weirdly monotonous way. Sugawara’s voice was flat and lifeless, like he was reading out loud a spreadsheet filled with dates and numbers without any context.

“Smart move to buy them,” Oikawa still commented, feeling the need to say something after a silence had fallen when Sugawara had finished with his story.

“I guess.”

Oikawa had wanted to ask why he didn’t just change laundromats if the lady made him feel uncomfortable, and would have done so if he wasn’t so taken aback when he actually, shockingly, heard a shrug in Sugawara’s voice.

He didn’t have more time to ponder on it, though, as his thoughts were diverted by a nudge, or a soft kick, however you want to look at it, down at his shin. He looked down, to confirm only, that it really was a foot gently prodding him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he drawled as he reached his arms high over his head to stretch. “I know.” He could take the unspoken hint.  

He wasn’t allowed to stay.

“I’m going,” he sighed, pushing himself to sit so he could scoot to the edge of the bed. “I just need to find my clothes.”

It wasn’t easy in the darkness of the room, the only illumination the sliver of light coming through the crack between the curtains, blending his clothes to the floor. Oikawa couldn’t remember ever seeing the curtains open, and he wondered if Sugawara ever opened them at all as he tried to locate his –

Oikawa had to squint against the sudden burst of light that lit the room, coming from above him from the ceiling lamp.

“Sorry,” Sugawara apologized as he must’ve noticed he’d accidentally momentarily blinded him. “But I figured the light would help?”

Oikawa didn’t reply. Although he kind of wanted to make a remark of how quickly Sugawara wanted him out of his apartment.

He merely pulled his briefs on, and then his shirt and pants, forgoing the socks as he stuffed them into his closed fist, figuring he’d put them in the pocket of his jacket he’d left over the back of the couch when he’d arrived.

“Hey,” Sugawara called for him softly.

Oikawa halted as he was checking that he still had his phone in his pocket, and turned to look at Sugawara... which was a mistake, he realized as he silently groaned inside his head at the sight the man made, lying on his bed like sin spread on a cracker, naked and desirable in the post-orgasmic haze.

When he noticed Sugawara beckoning him to come closer to the bed, he couldn’t not obey, albeit a little hesitantly. This wasn’t how his departure usually went. Normally, as soon as he was dressed to leave he was more than just allowed to do so, practically shoved out the door, with a simple goodbye and a nonchalant agreement that they’d hook up again soon... –ish.

Sugawara waited seemingly patiently as Oikawa shuffled closer to the bed, and he kept on waiting as Oikawa rested one of his knees on the mattress to lean even closer once the man beckoned him to do. 

“What name do you have my number saved under?” Sugawara whispered once Oikawa had his hands planted on the mattress next to the man’s head, to be even closer, most likely to hear the whispered question, to keep him from toppling over the man.

Oikawa wondered on the insistence for him to get closer just so Sugawara could whisper the question, and decided to tuck the way he’d easily followed the beckoning to get closer for later introspection. And he couldn’t help but think that the question was a test.

This was the sixth time that Sugawara had asked it. The first time that he’d whispered it, though, although Oikawa was leaning towards the possibility that it was just a way for the man to subtly flirt with him. To have him close by, to seductively whisper with a slight rasp, and to give him the full view of the mischievous smile.

It had to be a test. But a test of what?

Oikawa was yet to answer the question about the name, always leaving without replying and with a confident smirk, as if he was holding onto a juicy secret.

This time wasn’t going to be any different, he decided, even if Sugawara was doing his very convincing best to try and entrap him into finally answering.

He made sure the man saw the smirk before he brought one his hands on the man’s cheek and pressed their lips together for a sweet kiss.

A kiss that almost made him want to stay.

It was...

It was rare for them to kiss like this. Usually they had full blown make out sessions as they started to strip each other, as their hands wandered on one another’s skin, as they ventured into foreplay. Kissing wasn’t anything new, so to say.

But this kiss was new.

This kiss... It was soft, and sweet, and so tender.

This kiss... It wasn’t like their usual kisses were, filthy licks, filled and driven by lust, swallowed moans.

No, this was downright precious.

This kiss could break hearts.

 

 

*

 

 

The apartment was dark when Oikawa hauled his ass home, feeling more tired than usual, the amount of effort needed for taking his shoes off immense and almost an impossible feat. But only almost, since he did manage, even if he did stumble on someone else’s shoes while he did so. He didn’t bother with the lights, knowing his way around the living space well enough by now. He knew that he could walk in straight line and his legs would find the couch.

The glow in the dark –stars that were turned into magnets on the door of the fridge still glowed, telling him that it hadn’t been too long since the last person had called it a night and switched the lights off.

He couldn’t see the stars anymore when he fell face first into the couch with a magnificent flump as the softness of the cushions took him in like a warm embrace. The couch was easily his favorite thing about the apartment, and sometimes in the idle moments in between he found himself fantasizing about moving it to his room. How long would it take for his roommates to notice it was gone, and then to find it in his room?

His random thoughts of the couch and moving it, to the obliviousness of his roommates, were interrupted when he heard the front door open, the sound of it banging against the wall as it must’ve been thrown open drawing him back to the present.

Okay, fine, let’s be honest.

Startling him back to the present.

He quickly lifted his head up and took a look over his shoulder to see who was being rude and unnecessarily loud, and saw in the light shining in from the building’s hallway what looked like Moniwa, attached to a girl with his lips.

Oikawa rolled his eyes and dropped his head back down to fall asleep, or to succumb back into the fantasies about the softness of the couch. Whichever came first.

Which was neither, and definitely the last kiss with Sugawara.

The kiss, the sweetest kiss like the purr of a kitten, the kiss that had left the man stumped. He hadn’t said a word after Oikawa had pulled away.

And Oikawa wasn’t sure what to think of it.

 

 

*

 

 

“Hey!”

Oikawa’s shoulder was roughly pushed and he grumbled at the rude awakening, absolutely certain that he hadn’t had shuteye for more than an hour, tops. Maybe just for a blink of an eye.

But he was too tired to voice his chagrin, resigning himself to just take a peek with one eye open to glare at the disturber when he felt a rather forceful nudge at his side.

“What?” he managed to mumble through the way the side of his face was smushed against the couch cushion.

“Why are you sleeping here?” Terushima asked with a grin, looking too amused to look so bemused in finding Oikawa asleep on the couch.

“Too tired to move anywhere else,” Oikawa replied tiredly, and turned his head to face away from Terushima.

“Okay, then I have another question,” Terushima continued like he was oblivious to how Oikawa was trying to ignore him. _“How_ are you sleeping through this?”

Oikawa frowned, confused what Terushima meant until the sounds registered to him, and he groaned with how annoyed he was that he was made aware of the loud moaning.

“What the hell is he doing to her?” he asked without really expecting an answer.

“No idea,” Terushima still replied, way too happy to continue their late night conversation. Oikawa really had a hard time with tolerating Terushima when he was awake and in a good mood. Tired and annoyed was not a good place of mind to be for him when dealing with Terushima. “But she’s not entirely into it as enthusiastically as he probably is.”

Oikawa was perked by the information, always happy to learn more of his roommates, of other people in general, be it for possible blackmail material or ways to manipulate them.

He raised himself on his forearms, his elbows digging into the softness of the cushions under him. “How could you possible tell?”

“She’s louder than usual.”

Oikawa cocked his eyebrow as he gave Terushima a look of faint dislike. “Oh, so you listen to them have sex often then?”

“She’s loud, always. This is amplified like she’s moaning into a microphone that’s hooked to a fucking subwoofer with a dolby surround sound 5.1. Usually it’s him asking every other minute ‘Are you okay?’ and her answering ‘yeah’ like she’s bored and just wants it to be over already.”

Oikawa sputtered at the ridiculousness of Terushima’s statement. Although, the couldn’t argue with the fact that she really sounded like she was putting on a show.

“I guess they’re getting back together,” Terushima sighed, as if the idea of it exhausted him already.

“This happens a lot when they’re together?”

“Every night,” Terushima confirmed with a grave nod. “And we all hate Moniwa for that. In the morning you’re going to see a lot of unhappy faces.”

Oikawa sighed, shifting his position to a more comfortable one, and looked up to Terushima with all new questions now that he was miraculously actually awake. “Why are you up?”

“I’m going out.”

“In the middle of the night?” Oikawa asked, as if he was surprised by that anymore. He really shouldn’t be.

“Yeah,” Terushima replied with a little scoff of amusement, apparently finding it just as redundant as Oikawa did that he would even ask.

“But I figured I’d wake you up and maybe help you get to your own bed. Why did you even let yourself fall asleep here? Your back is going to kill you tomorrow.”

Oikawa rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I came home and was too tired to get past the couch.” He looked up to Terushima again once he was sufficiently blinded by spots, and noticed the curiosity in his slightly narrowed eyes.

“Were you out with that guy you’re seeing?”

“Sort of. We don’t really ‘ _go out’,”_ Oikawa replied with finger quotes.

“Why didn’t you sleep at his place?” Terushima continued to give him the scrutinizing look as he sat down on the coffee table, looking like was about to stay and interrogate Oikawa a little more. “Or do you have a thing or something like that why you can’t sleep at his place? I’m sorry if that’s too personal of a question. I’m just curious. And nosy.”

“No, it’s –“ Oikawa cut himself off with a huff. “He doesn’t let me stay over,” he admitted, without really knowing the reason behind the admittance, or why he voiced it out loud to Terushima.

Terushima made a face. “Like, ever?”

“Never.”

“Okay,” Terushima said slowly, sounding a little suspicious, scratching his cheek as he thought. “Do you know why?”

“No. But it’s fine. We’re not dating.”

“Right,” Terushima nodded. “Sounds like he has some issues. A lot of baggage. He probably needs an A380 to carry all the luggage with him wherever he goes.”

Oikawa chuckled weakly at Terushima’s attempt at a joke. He had a vague idea of the airplane he was referring, meaning, all he knew about it was that it was big.

“You should go when it’s still late and not early,” he suggested then, closing his eyes to fall back asleep. He was done with conversing with Terushima for the night. He was done with giving him more information about himself or his fuckbuddy or their ‘situation’. He already knew too much as it were.

Plus, he was ready to fall back asleep now.

“Are you sure you want to sleep here? Are you sure you can sleep through that?” Terushima pointed with his thumb over his shoulder to the direction of Moniwa’s room, towards the source of the moans that were still going.

If Oikawa was a better man, he’d probably give them the props for their stamina.

“Yeah,” he answered, resolute of not moving anywhere when he was feeling so relaxed sunken into the cushions.

“Alright,” Terushima chuckled as he stood up in a way that could only be described as lanky, which was peculiar for someone who wasn’t all that tall. “See you.”

Oikawa hummed in acknowledgement and closed his eyes, breathing in deep and slow inhales and exhales, willing his body and mind to relax back into sleep.

But the moaning didn’t end, and no matter how hard he tried to block the noise that could’ve been from porn on never-ending loop, he couldn’t fall back asleep. He felt a little frustrated at the insistence of the sounds invading his hearing. Like she just couldn’t come, no matter how loudly she moaned.

“Can’t sleep here,” he decided, sitting up.

“I told you, man,” Terushima laughed from the door, prompting Oikawa to suspect that the man had waited by the door for that. “I’d invest in some noise cancelling headphones if I were you.”

“Shut up,” Oikawa shot and marched down the hallway, hoping that he wouldn’t be able to hear the worst porn ever in his room.

He was, blessedly, right.

 

 

*

 

 

The morning came before Oikawa was ready for it, but once he was awake, he weirdly couldn’t fall back asleep.

He was plagued by a thought that prevented him, quite rudely he might add, from getting anymore shut eye.

The kiss

He couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss, and how lovely, and heart-melting it had been. How fond he’d felt when he’d pressed his lips against Sugawara’s.

He couldn’t pinpoint any actual thought or a particular feeling that drove him to kiss Sugawara in such an endeared way.

Or, alternatively, maybe he didn’t want to figure out.

But, perhaps seven a.m. wasn’t the time to figure it out.

So, with that decided, he got up with a longwinded yawn, in hopes that getting something to eat for breakfast could help him get over the kiss. At least it was worth the try. After a small detour to the bathroom to make sure he was presentable, he found his les taking him to the kitchen, which was filled with people, despite the fact that it was an early Saturday morning.

Bokuto, Kuroo and Akaashi were preparing breakfast. Well, two of them were, while Sawamura was seated at the dinner table with his tablet and a cup of coffee, like every morning when Oikawa was up early enough to see him before he left for work.  

“Morning Oikawa,” Bokuto greeted with a small cheer, ladling rice into little bowls.

“Morning,” he greeted back, not as enthusiastically, but with a smile that could charm the socks off of just about from anyone.  

“Do you want coffee?”

“No, tea.” He pointed to the kettle as he sat down by the counter, as if just that little gesture could magically make it filled with water and start to boil, as if he had telekinetic powers. He wasn’t really expecting anyone to make the tea for him, or maybe he was, and was glad when he heard the telltale click of the kettle as someone must’ve switched it on. It couldn’t have been because of his nonexistent telekinetic powers. No matter how much he wished to be a Sith lord.

He found his seat, across from Akaashi, who was leaning his head heavily on his hand, his other hand holding the handle of the coffee cup, and looking dead asleep.

“What’s with Akaashi?”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Bokuto assured with a soft smile as he looked at his very much asleep boyfriend. “It just takes him a while to wake up, that’s all.”

“How long of a while?” Oikawa asked as he gave the fast-asleep man a once over with an observant eye.

“From an hour up to three,” Kuroo answered with a shrug, and Oikawa balked.

Three hours to fully wake up? What the hell?

“He’s sort of awake,” Kuroo went on explaining as he moved closer to Akaashi, putting his arm around Akaashi’s slumped shoulders. “If you ask him something by stating his name, you get this funny little whimper in response, like he’s physically hurt or little offended that someone would bother him when he’s trying to sleep.”

“It’s really cute,” Bokuto chimed in from the stove. “Try it.”

“Try it?” Oikawa asked incredulously. Akaashi was a human being, not a toy. Although, he kind of wanted the proof of what Kuroo and Bokuto said. He wanted to hear that whimper and make up his own mind of how cute it was.

“Here, I’ll show you,” Sawamura volunteered, shifting his weight on the chair to lean a little closer to Akaashi.

“Akaashi?”

A small sound of a whimper came out of the sleeping man.

“Do you want some breakfast?” Sawamura asked kindly.

Another whimper came from the dead-to-the-world man.

Oikawa grinned. Admittedly, it was kind of a cute sound, and coming from a decently good looking young man like Akaashi it was nothing to sneer at.

He decided to give it a test drive too.

“Do you want more coffee, Akaashi?” he asked with minimal effort put into containing his excited grin.

Akaashi whimpered again, and Oikawa couldn’t help but chuckle with his delight.

“A new toy,” he said with mirth, and an evil cackle so quiet you had to be Legolas to be able to hear it. “Does he even register what we’re actually asking from him?”

“He does, to some extent,” Kuroo confirmed, squeezing Akaashi with affection with the arm he still had slung on the slightly smaller man’s shoulders and planted a small kiss on top of Sleepy’s head. “I once asked him if he wanted a blowjob, got a whimper as a reply, and later that day he said that ‘yes, he’d like that blowjob now’.” Kuroo laughed with his little story.

“Sometimes I think he just ignores what we’ve asked since he doesn’t always get back to us on what we’ve asked. _I swear_ that once he’s awake and in the same room with you, he’ll come and offer you his gratitude for asking if he’d want more coffee and thanking you for your consideration to ask.”

Oikawa raised his eyebrow with skepticism as he glanced at Sawamura, to ask if Bokuto was serious.

Before Sawamura had the chance to say a word, although Oikawa saw him open his mouth as if he was about to say something, Ushijima’s door opened as the man himself came out, decked in the latest exercise gear – a tracksuit of horrid colors, in Oikawa’s opinion, and running shoes, with the expression of dead seriousness and tunnel vision.

“Hi Ushijima,” Bokuto said with a smile. “Bye Ushijima,” he added about two seconds later when the front door was closed.

“I swear that man is a robot,” Oikawa commented, casting a quick glance to the clock to confirm that Ushijima had taken off for his run at the exact same time as he did every Saturday morning.

“He has routines,” Kuroo pointed out the obvious.

Or maybe he has been programmed to wake up at a certain time to make it for his usual jog at a certain time, Oikawa thought.

“Anyway,” Oikawa shook himself from his dedicated thoughts to discover the truth inside Ushijima – was he hollow like the Tin Man, full of bolts and microchips like the robots in Robots, an invention made by Jimmy Neutron, or an actual soul of a very dried up and withered old man who couldn’t experience any joys in his life anymore.

“Back to my new toy,” he gestured towards Akaashi with an uninhibitedly amused and conning smile. “If I ask him to do something for me, and he whimpers, can I take that as an agreement?”

“No,” Bokuto and Kuroo said at the same time, resembling the knee jerk simultaneous and telepathic responds Oikawa sometimes got from Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

If the two got so protective over their boyfriend, Oikawa thought it best not to tease any of them more and let Akaashi keep waking up on his own in his own time without further mischief. He could always get to it later.

But now there was a space in the conversation to be filled, and of course it was mostly between Bokuto and Kuroo as they acted disgustingly in love feeding their breakfast at each other, completely turning Oikawa off of his breakfast. There was a time and space for the romantic couple-stuff, and that early in the morning with others around wasn’t one of them.

Luckily, they were all – that all meaning just Oikawa and Sawamura – saved from the gooey cartoon love eyes with the hearts and the absurd bulging out of the skull when Moniwa emerged from his bedroom, followed by a young woman he was leading by hand to the front door, halting everyone’s actions in the kitchen. Everyone’s but Akaashi’s, who was still too unconscious to be aware of his surroundings.

“Hi, guys,” the woman greeted softly, waving her free hand in a cute greeting.

No one said a thing in response, or offered any kind of greeting back, but she didn’t seem fazed and took in stride.

Oikawa was sure she had either expected the cold shoulder or was always met with it – and was convinced that both cases were true.

He could hear the soft murmurs Moniwa was exchanging with the woman by the front door, and even if he couldn’t see them he could imagine the sappy lovesick faces the two were giving each other.  To prevent himself from gagging or rolling his eyes so hard they’d fall off or end up looping to the back of his skull, he busied himself with getting a cup out, ready to pour his tea into it once the water had boiled.

“Moniwa, we hate you,” Kuroo announced a short moment later, after the front door had been opened and closed.

“So very much,” Bokuto agreed.

“So I got laid last night?” Moniwa said, looking around the kitchen, as if in search of a face that could be on his side. “What’s the big deal?”

“The fact that we couldn’t sleep because apparently she thinks you’re the best fuck out there.”

“We weren’t that loud.” Moniwa protested so genuinely Oikawa couldn’t help but think that the man actually believed his words one hundred percent.

“Oh, yes, you were,” Kuroo chuckled with ire. “We couldn’t sleep.”

“Well, sorry. But I’m not apologizing for having sex with my girlfriend.”

“So she’s your girlfriend again?” Sawamura leaned his arms on the dividing counter in middle of the kitchen. “When did that change?” he asked, sounding sincere and curious, like he actually for real wanted to know. Oikawa couldn’t detect a hint of sarcasm in his voice, which... Okay, wasn’t all that impossible.

“A while ago,” Moniwa shrugged. “Next time we’ll try not to be so loud.”

“How about you don’t fuck her here?” Sawamura suggested.

“We can’t fuck at her place because she still lives with her parents –“

“Love hotels exist for a reason,” Kuroo interrupted him.

“How is it okay for you three to fuck here but not for me and my girlfriend? Is it just because we’re straight? You don’t give Terushima the same shit when he fucks someone here _during the day.”_

“No, not because you’re straight. It’s because she’s loud.”

“You’re loud!”

“Don’t worry about Kuroo,” Sawamura stepped in before the conversation became a full-blown fight. “He’s just cranky because he couldn’t sleep last night. I’m happy for you that you got everything sorted with her,” he placated with a patient smile.

“Thanks,” Moniwa replied with a smile. “I’m happy with her.”

“That’s good,” Sawamura reaffirmed with a nod.

“I need to invest in some earplugs,” Kuroo muttered as he turned away from them.

“But I still think that perhaps it was best that you two don’t fuck here?” Sawamura said. “Just to avoid the fights?”

Moniwa let out a sigh. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s okay,” Sawamura replied, lifting his hands in the air in a placating manner, like he was trying to appear he was fine either way, but Oikawa knew he’d lean towards siding with Kuroo, for personal reasons.

Moniwa nodded, like he was in agreement with Sawamura, and disappeared back to his bedroom.

“Yeah, I definitely need to invest in some earplugs,” Kuroo commented quietly, speaking under his breath.

Oikawa heard Bokuto chuckle. “Okay, I’m off to work,” he announced as he placed his dishes next to the sink. “Bye,” he went over to Kuroo and kissed him chastely. “Bye babe,” he said to Akaashi as he passed by him and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. “Love you too, Oikawa,” he reached his hand out with the apparent intention of ruffling Oikawa’s hair but he dodged out of reach just in time. “Later, Daichi.” He high-fived him.

“He’s in a good mood,” Sawamura chuckled as they all looked after Bokuto for a moment.

“He got a raise yesterday,” Kuroo replied proudly.

Akaashi let out a little whimper.

Oikawa cast him a look, all the while wondering how he’d missed this adorable sleepyhead during the months he’d already lived in the apartment.

“Good for him,” Sawamura said, once again sounding genuinely happy for someone other than himself.

“So, what are your plans today, Daichi?” Kuroo asked, lounging half over the table and one of his hands on Sawamura’s shoulder.

“Suga was planning on coming over.”

Oikawa heard the notification of a text message, and brought his cell phone closer to see how missed him.

 

**Sugawara:** I woke up hard

**Sugawara:** And it’s your fault

 

Oikawa grinned and typed up a quick reply.

 

**How is it my fault?**

 

“Suga’s coming? It’s been too long since I last saw him.”

“He’s been busy again. The artist who’s album he last worked on, apparently the company wants to release a dance remix album soon and he’s soloing the project.”

“Wow.”

“I think the release is coming up soon and they are in a rush with it.”

 

**Sugawara:** You fucked me too well last night

 

Oikawa kept grinning, feeling rather satisfied with himself.

“How is he doing otherwise? Still on the medication?”

 

**Do you want me to come over and take care of you?**

 

“Yeah, I think so. Although I’m not sure why.”

 

**Sugawara:** I have plans with a friend

 

“Aren’t they helping him?”

“They’re practically just mood stabilizers, so everything is just on the level with him. Like, if he gets excited about something, it doesn’t really show on his face, so he makes the effort to show his smiles. Like, he knows that normally he would smile when he hears a funny joke, so he fakes it to show that the joke was appreciated even if he doesn’t really feel it right then.”

 

**A ‘friend’ friend or a sex friend?**

“Okay, that’s really messed up.”

“I guess the medication helps when he feels low so he doesn’t really get into the slump. But I’d rather he had the ups and downs than the numb middle ground.”

“I agree.”

“What I really can’t figure out is, why is he even taking them? He says he’s okay, and he wouldn’t lie about that, not after the accident, not after he promised he wouldn’t.”

“Maybe they really help him then?”

“I don’t know. I just keep wondering what he said to his therapist to have him write him the prescription.”

Oikawa was still yet to get a reply to his question, and he wasn’t sure how to interpret it. He didn’t like that he had to wait. He felt like he was being ignored on purpose.

“He seemed healthy the last time I saw him,” Kuroo said, but Oikawa had no context really, and assumed they were still talking about Sawamura’s friend.

“Yeah, no, I know. He’s doing a lot better compared to last year. But I worry, you know me.” Sawamura spoke unbearably softly at the very end, prompting Oikawa to take a look at him.

“This Suga you’re talking about,” Oikawa took the bare minimum interest in their conversation as he waited for the man to text back. “Is he depressed?”

“Uh,” Sawamura looked constipated as he must’ve thought about his answer hard, harder than Oikawa had thought the question would need him to.

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” he ended up saying, and Oikawa accepted it. It was clear he wasn’t one of those lucky enough allowed to know the story. Which made sense, since he hadn’t met the man yet. Which was also weird, if he put basis on the fact that the man apparently was Sawamura’s best friend, and had become close friends with all the other tenants in the apartment as well, but had been mysteriously absent ever since Oikawa had moved in.

“Once you get to know him I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Kuroo said with nonchalance but with so much conviction Oikawa decided to believe him.

“If you hang around tonight you’ll get to meet him,” Sawamura said in a chipper tone, like he was actually looking forward to their first meeting.

And as much as Oikawa was looking forward to meeting this mysterious ‘Suga’ person, he had a better idea, something else on his mind that could take his mind off of what he didn’t want to think about – the kiss that haunted him. “Nah,” he drawled and swung around on the chair, throwing his long legs out before he stood up. “I think I’m going hang with Iwa-chan tonight. I haven’t bothered him for a while.”

Sawamura and Kuroo chuckled a little.

“Tell him hi for me?” Sawamura asked, and Oikawa nodded in stride as he headed towards his bedroom. Whether he actually remembered to say it to Iwa-chan wasn’t his priority one.

 

 

*

 

 

_I'll always make time for you  
_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was also known as a challenge to write "sleep" and "sleepiness" as many different ways as possible


	7. 031015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to scream about all the kudos and comments and bookmarks and hits and *out of breath and trying to catch it*  
> Overwhelmed and so grateful! Thank you <3

 

 

 

“Hey Suga!” Kuroo hollered when he emerged from his bedroom, and crashed on their hang out in the living room by jumping over the back of the sectional and planted his butt on the cushion like he was about to stay.

Not that Daichi had anything against it. Far from it. He knew he’d have hang time alone with Suga the next day anyway.

“How’s life Kuroo?” Suga greeted the man with a particularly impressive bedhead, more impressive than usual and Daichi speculated whether Kuroo had actually worked on it, put some product in to make it seem bigger and larger than usual, if he’d maybe aided the natural work of his pillows.

“Well, I haven’t been slapped by my parents yet so I consider it a success.”

Suga sputtered lightly at the response, and Daichi felt a smile spread on his lips as well, in middle of his wandering thoughts on Kuroo’s hair. He almost wanted to run his fingers through the crow’s nest to confirm the existence of product in the hair.

“So far,” Kuroo added with a light grin. “Anyone else want something to drink?” he asked then, getting up and heading towards the kitchen.

“Suga brought his vodka icicles, so we’re good for now,” Daichi commented, marveling how Kuroo’s hair didn’t move at all as he did.

“Vodka icicles?” Kuroo turned to look at him with excitement. “Did you only bring two?” He directed the question to Suga, who didn’t seem to pay as much attention to them as he was to his phone.

Daichi had no idea what Suga was doing with his phone, the position his best friend was in – lying on his back with his feet propped over the back of the sectional and with hands holding the phone in front of his face with the screen facing down – made it impossible for Daichi to sneak a peek at the screen without being too obvious about it, like slowly sliding from the couch onto the floor and worming his way over to where Suga’s head was pillowed, and leaning his head next to Suga’s to be nosy.

Yeah, wouldn’t be obvious and awkward as hell when he was caught, at all.

“There’s more in the freezer,” he answered to Kuroo’s question, which was followed by a subtle but enthusiastic whoop. But he was more interested in what was so captivating to Suga to keep him glued to the device illuminating his face and ruining his eyes with the blue light.

“Are you sexting someone?”

“What?” Suga asked with laughter, sounding thoroughly surprised and caught off guard with the question. He tilted his head back, his chin up, to look at Daichi. “No,” he answered with a chuckle. “It’s work stuff. My assistant is at work and keeps asking about some of my old equipment, if he can loan them.”

Kuroo returned to the couch, obscenely licking the icicle.

Before you get the wrong image.

Daichi sighed as he felt the need to explain. Suga had gotten a popsicle mold some years back as a gift from someone who doesn’t matter to the story, so they shall remain unnamed. The mold made popsicles to really look like icicles, of different colors depending on what you used to make them. Anyway, Suga had come up with a great recipe, that wasn’t just vodka since that stuff doesn’t really freeze in a normal freezer, but was added as a subtle way to put in some strong alcohol into something sweet made of berries. And they were amazing, all their friends loved them. Not for the taste or the vagueness of alcohol, but for the fact that they actually looked like icicles, and were sharp enough to potentially skewer someone with.

And no, it’s not weird to have something in your kitchen that could kill you. You have knives in your kitchen, too right? A big cleaver? Maybe a meat hammer? Break a wine bottle and you have an excellent weapon right there. NO! Daichi is not giving you ideas, you silly children, don’t take him wrong. Just, you know, heads up. There are sharp things in your kitchen. Like a wine bottle opener.

Anyway.

Moving on where we originally left off before Daichi took a mental break to be part of the cast in ‘the office’ just to give that iconic look to the camera.

Yes, Kuroo was obscenely licking the icicle and Daichi had to avert his eyes not to be stimulated, not to gather a mental image he would abuse at a later time in his own bedroom, or in the shower.

“Stop that, Kuroo,” Suga spoke up, dropping his phone on the couch cushion next to him, probably to be forgotten there and then later when Suga would leave they’d have to all but turn over the couch to recover it. “Or I’m going to stab you with it.”

Daichi was ever so grateful for Suga for asking Kuroo to stop giving the icicle a thorough sucking.

“Ooh, I’m scared,” Kuroo replied, and moaned right after at something that Daichi missed him do since he was looking away and out the window. The blinds had never looked more interesting to him.

“Stop or you’re never getting another vodka icicle.”

That seemed to do the trick, as Daichi heard a pop as Kuroo must’ve pulled the icicle out of his mouth, and Suga hummed contently right after.

“So, Suga,” Kuroo spoke conversationally and Daichi braved to look at him.

He sighed with relief as Kuroo was eating the icicle like one would a popsicle, and decided to get one for himself as well, since Kuroo had failed to bring more than just the one.

“Are you coming to my birthday party?”

Daichi heard Suga hum quietly. “Isn’t your birthday in next month?”

“How long have we known each other? And you have to check when my birthday is?”

Daichi noted the mock of a miffed sound in Kuroo’s voice as he grabbed an icicle from the freezer and turned to find other snacks as well, gathering them in little bowls as he kept the icicle balanced in his mouth between his teeth.

“I was just confused of why you’d have to ask so early.”

“So you’ll be there?” Kuroo asked with excitement coloring his voice.

Suga must’ve nodded or given some other wordless affirmation as Daichi heard nothing before Kuroo replied.  

“Cool. Remember last year?”

“Yeah.”

“Great, because I don’t.”

Suga let out small breath of laughter that Daichi couldn’t help but join in on, taking the icicle out of his mouth so he wouldn’t slobber all over himself and become a mess.

“I do remember the morning after, waking up with one of my shoes on my foot, the other on the pillow next to me,” Kuroo continued.

Daichi still laughed as he walked over to the couch, dropping down with their snacks, recalling how Akaashi’s affectionate ‘Pain-in-the-ass-Kuroo’ had taken on another meaning because of his whining about how hungover and miserably he had felt.

“Anyway, were you two planning on watching a movie?”

“Not necessarily,” Suga answered Kuroo’s question.

“How exclusively are the movie nights when you mock the movies just for you two?”

Daichi exchanged a look with Suga. “Why do you ask?” he inquired from Kuroo when he moved his gaze to the man licking the last of the frozen vodka from the stick.

“There’s a movie I want to watch, but I don’t want to watch it alone and Kou and Kei refuse to watch it with me.”

“What movie?” Daichi asked, endeared by Kuroo’s rare rambling, offering the last half of his icicle to Suga.

“Into the Woods.”

Daichi traded a look with Suga, who was mid-lick on the sweet coldness, again.

“You do realize that we’re going to relentlessly mock it? If you want to see the movie with the intention of enjoying it, you probably won’t have any fun watching it with our mean commentary track on and unable to switch it off.”

“No, I know that. And I’m okay with it.”

“I guess we can watch it then,” Daichi shrugged.

And that was how they wasted two hours of their lives, never able to get back the wasted time, no matter how they’d wish for it.

“Is she excusing shoplifting?” Suga asked soon after they’d started the movie. “I think I like her,” he decided about the Red Riding Hood.

Daichi was too engrossed into the narration to give much thought into the morals the movie was trying to convey. Until he noticed how Suga had slumped on the couch. He’d started sitting up with his feet propped up on the couch with his knees up. Now, he was hidden behind his knees from the tv, like he couldn’t stand to watch anymore. And they were only about five minutes in. This must’ve been a record for how quickly Suga was done with a movie.

“I swear, if one more character sings the line ‘into the woods’, I’m –“

The narration in the movie cut off when another character jollily sang about their venture in to the woods, cutting Suga off in middle of his threat, causing him to heave a heavy sigh of frustration for being interrupted so rudely.

“I hate this movie,” he proclaimed right after. “I’m not sure if I even want this movie to be bad. Like, I need it to redeem itself right now.”

Daichi chuckled next to him, always amused by Suga’s comments. He patted his knee to provide comfort and good luck for enduring the two hour long movie.

The movie didn’t get any better from that point on, according to Suga and proven true by how he was shielding his eyes from what was happening on the screen.

“I hate you so much, Kuroo, for making me watch this.”

“I thought you liked mocking the bad movies.”

“I do. But this is too awful. It’s too horrible to mock. There’s no enjoyment in mocking something this bad.”

“I don’t know,” Daichi said thoughtfully, not exactly agreeing with Suga, not but disagreeing either. The movie wasn’t making much sense. “It does make you wonder how small the woods is if everyone keeps running into each other.”

The only time that Suga could say that he sort of liked the movie was when the prince ripped his shirt open screaming “agony”, the scene prompting them all to laugh out loud with tears in their eyes and rewinding a couple of times, disrupting the flow of the movie, just to laugh again. And maybe to appreciate bare nicely toned chests.

What?

They weren’t robots.

And then the evitable came, something that had been simmering and building from the very beginning.

“I can’t watch any longer. I’m so uncomfortable with all the rapey lyrics. And the pedophilia. This movie is not okay.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Daichi said out loud, a disgusted expression on his face, wondering how the movie ever got made.

“I feel like I missed something. How are the Cinderella and the prince not together? What happened?” Kuroo asked.

“I’m confused too.”

“Okay,” Suga said, clearly done and then some, squared to the hundreds. “I don’t care what happens to the characters anymore. The giant can eat all of them for all I care,” he said, turning the tv off with a push off a button on the remote.

“Now we don’t know how the movie ends,” Kuroo said, audibly disappointed just a little.

“The giant ate them all,” Suga announced. “That’s how it ends.”

Daichi tried to hold back his laughter. “We should watch something else now, to flush the movie out of our minds.”

“Agreed,” Suga said immediately, turning the tv back on, quickly finding something light and easy to have on.

While Suga searched for something to watch, something to have on the background, Kuroo slid closer to Daichi. “Does this happen often?” he whispered loudly. “Does he often give up on movies that he hates?”

“No,” Daichi shook his head. “This is rare. The only other time I remember this happening was when the king died in Atlantis.”

Kuroo laughed, while Suga lamented the death of the king, falling sideways so his head ended up in Daichi’s lap, ending up pressing play on some cutesy anime.

“It was a tragedy.”

Daichi smiled fondly down at him and ran his fingers through Suga’s hair. “It’s okay. He was old. He lived a full life.”

“But he didn’t get to see how the Atlantis flourished again.”

“I know,” Daichi said soothingly, never ceasing his hand’s movements as he kept stroking Suga’s hair slowly.

“I thought you didn’t know how it ended if you shut it off when the king died?” Kuroo questioned.

Daichi glanced up quickly from Suga to Kuroo. “I told him how it ended.”

Kuroo made a nod and a sound of understanding, his mouth in a purse that soon turned into a smile when the front door opened.

“Welcome home, babe,” he said to Bokuto, who was taking in the scene in the living room, the three of them on the couch practically glumped together like a being with three heads.

“This is a sight to come home to,” Bokuto commented, letting the door close on it’s own after him as he kicked his shoes off in haste and practically jumped to Kuroo’s side.

Daichi didn’t need to look at them to know that they’d exchange a kiss in hello. He didn’t need to see it to feel the slight twinge of envy.

But the twinge didn’t come, not as sharply as it usually did, dulled by the fleeting, soft touch on his hand that was resting on Suga’s shoulder, and soon it was wrapped in a warm hand and brought closer to Suga’s chest.

And he realized that it was a gesture of comfort Suga gave him, and he was grateful. He squeezed Suga’s hand back, silently thanking him for it, for knowing that he’d need it.

“You’re not trading me and Keiji for these two, are you?” Bokuto asked in jest as he settled next to Kuroo, the swiff and swaff of his uniform against the couch cushions as he got comfortable with a small wiggle.

“Never,” Kuroo answered easily and straight away, kissing the top of Bokuto’s head right after, his arm wrapped around Bokuto’s shoulders.

Daichi ran his fingers through Suga’s hair slowly, gently letting his fingernails scratch on his scalp, gliding his fingers along Suga’s hair to the tips of the ash blonde strands, to distract himself.

“Is Suga asleep?” Bokuto asked curiously, leaning over Kuroo as he observed Suga’s serenity.

“No,” Suga answered calmly. “I’m content.”

Daichi ruffled Suga’s hair slightly with a fond smile, proud of his friend to have found some serenity in the moment. But he kept his eyes straightforward on the tv screen to avoid seeing more of the affection between the two thirds of the boyfriends.

“He looks five years younger,” Bokuto commented in a hushed voice to Kuroo.

Suga stretched on the couch, his free hand reaching over high over his head as he yawned, almost decked Daichi’s face with it. “I should go home before I fall asleep here,” Suga spoke, blinking his eyes open. “I have a track to finish for Monday.”

Daichi steered the hand away from his face, and Suga promptly dropped it down next to him. “We’re still on for tomorrow for a movie, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Suga replied without a beat and with a small smile. But he didn’t make a move to indicate that he was leaving.

“Suga,” Daichi chuckled, shaking the hand that Suga was holding. “Aren’t you going?”

“In a bit. If I manage to get moving again.”

Daichi laughed. “I’ll help you. Come on.” He started to gently prod at Suga’s body to get him to sit up, a task that proved to be impossible when Suga was in such a relaxed position.

“Stop poking me,” Suga laughed along with him, and kicked his feet to sit up.

“There we go,” Daichi praised his minimal efforts as Suga stood up with a long and whiny groan. “Now you just have to let go of my hand and then you can go.”

“I don’t want to.” Suga stated outright, looking down to their linked hands.

“He’s so cute.” Daichi heard Bokuto whisper to Kuroo.

“I know,” Kuroo replied back with a whisper as well.

Daichi chuckled fondly. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Fine,” Suga answered with an eye roll, one that Daichi decided to overlook before his dad instincts would kick in at the sight of such a moody teenager-y behavior.

“Have your phone with you?”

Suga patted his jeans pockets, coming up empty. “No.” He bent over the couch, his free hand delving in between the cushions and coming out with a cheerful smile. “Now I do.”

Daichi marveled his reckless bravery. “I can’t believe you just stuck your hand there without looking beforehand. Who knows what else you could’ve found there.”

“Yeah, I definitely felt a condom under there,” Suga replied casually, while Daichi made a face and shot a reprimanding look at Kuroo and Bokuto – even though they probably weren’t the culprits when there had been multiple other tenants in the apartment, and none of them had ever cleaned the couch; in short, it was disgusting and a miracle that anyone could bother to sit on it – as he led Suga by their linked hands to the front door.

And Suga still held on to Daichi’s hand as he put his right shoe on, but was stumped when he tried to put his left shoe on as well, but couldn’t manage it with just one hand when the laces weren’t loose enough.

“I think I actually need both hands for this,” he said contemplatively.

“Really?” Daichi couldn’t help but chuckle. “Who knew?”

“Shut up,” Suga replied and let go as he crouched down to slip his left shoe on as well.

“Text me when you get home,” Daichi said as he watched Suga stand up again, and took Suga’s jacket off the rack by the door and held it open for him.

“Sure,” Suga agreed breezily as he pushed his arms in the sleeves, and turned as he shrugged his shoulders so the jacket settled, fitting him perfectly. He brought his hands on Daichi’s cheeks, and tilted his head down a little, and shortly after Daichi felt Suga press a light kiss on his forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Suga said as he let go, and Daichi looked up to see him smiling softly at him.

“Don’t work too hard,” Daichi reminded him, knowing that Suga would likely pull an all-nighter working if he’d pushed it off to hang with him.

Suga scoffed, opening the door. “I never do.”

It was a lie, they and everyone in the living room knew it, probably even still-sleeping Terushima could sense the falseness of Suga’s statement and shocked him awake.

“You promised no more lies,” Daichi reminded him lightly, kind of joking, kind of serious.

Suga just wiggled his fingers at him in response in a vague resemblance of a cute wave, his smile disappearing behind the slowly closing door.

With a sigh, as Daichi lost the sight of Suga, he scratched the back of his head, not quite sure how to feel to be left alone with Kuroo, and Bokuto. But he figured he should return to the couch. He did so, but kept a respectable distance from the couple tangled with each other as they smirked at him knowingly.

He wasn’t sure what they thought they knew, but he certainly felt out of the loop.

“What?”

“Why don’t you and Suga just date?” Bokuto came straight out with his question.

“You’re already acting like a couple,” Kuroo added on.

Daichi frowned. No they didn’t. “No we don’t.”

“Really?” Kuroo made a sound of derisive snort, disbelief saturating his voice and expression. “Then what was with the stroking his hair when his head was in your lap? The hand holding? Asking him to text you once he got home?”

“I want to know he got there safely,” Daichi explained.

“And the other stuff?” Bokuto asked with a meaningfully raised eyebrow. Daichi hated that look on everyone, least of all on the guy who repeatedly could easily touch and kiss the one man he was in love with too. Although it was secret and most definitely just a crush and something he only could talk about with Suga.

“Suga’s like a brother to me,” Daichi answered, diverting from explaining why it was so easy to be touchy with Suga, why they felt close friends and sometimes probably looked like a couple to a pair of eyes who didn’t know them very well. But Kuroo and Bokuto knew them well. Knew they were just friends. So this line of questioning from them was a little uncalled for. 

“We might’ve only known each other for seven or something odd years, but I feel like I’ve known him for a long time. In a good way. Like I’ve known him my whole life.” He spoke confidently, sure of where he stood with Suga, certain that Suga felt the same way about their friendship. And just a little bit annoyed that he had to for some reason justify his friendship with Suga to two people who knew almost as well as they knew each other.

Hell, they had all sat beside Suga’s hospital bed when he was in a coma, they had all worried about him making it, wondered if he’d ever wake up. Maybe no one had worried as much as Daichi, but they had all been there to help Suga recover.

“It’s cute how you two care about each other,” Bokuto commented with a happy smile. “Really cute.”

And Daichi knew what would follow that statement. Something being cute, or more accurately, Bokuto finding something, or anything, cute, made him... Horny.

Bokuto predictably turned to Kuroo with an excited glint in his eyes, the earlier line of questioning about Daichi and Suga seemingly forgotten. “Want to fuck?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Kuroo replied, just as predictably.

“Don’t be too loud,” Daichi asked from them, disappointment and hurt swirling in his heart as he watched the two disappear into Kuroo’s bedroom.

“Sure thing, dad,” Kuroo called out right before the door closed after them.

With a heavy sigh Daichi picked himself up from the couch, not wanting to stay and hear anything, and disappeared into his own bedroom, put his headphones on, and restarted one of his favorite anime.

Had Suga known this would happen? Was that why he left?

Daichi thought back for a moment, cataloging the conversation and what had happened right before Suga had remembered his work that might’ve prompted for him to leave. He felt like he’d missed something.

But came up empty on anything significant, which meant that Suga had just randomly remembered his work. Most likely.

 

 

*

 

 

A couple of blocks to the south, Oikawa was taking up Iwaizumi’s bed, lying on his back, his limbs stretched out, resembling a starfish stranded on a rock, feeling a disturbance in the force, as if someone was doing something wicked, something no one should do.

Not that he could really concentrate on that when Iwaizumi was distracting him with his inane questioning about work and writing songs.

Oikawa had learnt long ago to ignore it, to turn it into nothing but background noise, which, granted, was probably rude. He certainly would find it rude if someone did it to him. But, he had extenuating circumstances that gave him the permission, self-granted, to ignore Iwaizumi when he was urging him to start writing again.

Maybe start with a “Fuck you for breaking my heart” spirited angry song that was filled with empowerment for women, the likes of which Taylor Swift or Katy Perry would sing. 

Fuck you, Iwaizumi. Oikawa refused to fall that low. He wasn't that heartbroken. Anymore. 

Plus, he had more important things to think about. Like his fuckbuddy, _Sugawara,_ who was apparently busy with a ‘friend’, a title without any addition to tell Oikawa whether he should be slightly jealous that his fuckbuddy was getting his socks rocked off by someone else than him.

“Learnt your fuckbuddy’s name yet?”

Oikawa zoned back into the room, to the soft but firm mattress under his back and the numbingly white ceiling above him, the question so different with the tone it was asked in to prompt him to blink away from his obsessing thoughts about Sugawara, from wanting something in his hands to twirl over and over again around his fingers in a desperate need to help him keep his thoughts in clear order, to keep them from twisting into knots that would be really hard to open later on, tinged with obscuring colors of feelings.

He turned his head slowly to look over to the armchair Iwaizumi was occupying, his face twisted with a small smirk, accompanied by the clear teasing quality of his question.

Not that it was much of tease anymore.

“Kind of,” Oikawa answered, turning his head back.

“Really?” Iwaizumi sounded surprised, probably rightly so. “He finally told you?” His voice turned incredulous, as if he didn’t think it’d never happen.

Oikawa tried his best to appear offended, pursing his mouth in distaste of Iwaizumi’s disbelief. Not that he hadn’t thought that he might never learn the guy’s name.

“Not exactly?” He still admitted with some reluctance, hiding it with his over-confident voice, avoiding Iwaizumi’s gaze by steadfastly looking up to the ceiling like it was the most captivating sunset in the world. “I caught it on the board by the front door of his apartment building.”

A silence followed his words, one that made him a little nervous. He didn’t turn to look, though, preferring to ignore the silence, the heavy gaze Iwaizumi had fixed him with that he could feel as an actual weight on his shoulders, pushing him deeper into the mattress.

“Let me get this straight,” Iwaizumi finally said, breaking the oppressive silence filled with nervous tenseness. “You’ve been fucking this guy for how many months? And _now_ you learn his name by reading it on something that you’ve passed for how many times already?”

Oikawa rolled his eyes and pushed up to lean on his elbow, fixing Iwaizumi with a raised eyebrow to show he didn’t care for the tone of his voice. “I didn’t care to find out before,” he defended himself.

“Does he know you know his name?”

“Nope,” Oikawa answered, his gaze focusing on the hole by the corner of the duvet cover, and started to play with it. “You need new sheets,” he commented, wiggling his index finger through the hole.

“I don’t,” Iwaizumi replied, unfazed by the change in conversation. “Are you going to tell him your name now that you know his?”

“Not sure.  And you really should think about getting new sheets. What if some wife prospect sees the hole and thinks the sheets are eaten by moths?”

“They’re soft and comfortable, and I like them. Now, stop playing with the hole like you’re fingering someone so it doesn’t rip more.” He slapped Oikawa’s hand away.

“They’re soft because they’re so old.”

“Stop fixating on my sheets. What do you mean you’re not sure if you’re going to tell the guy your name? You’ve been sleeping with him for months. It’s time to introduce yourselves.”

“Boring,” Oikawa announced, flopping back on his back, but not before he snatched up a pen forgotten on the table next to the bed. He started to twirl between his fingers, his gaze once again on the ceiling, shadows starting to form there from the lights shining in through the window as the evening started to fall and darken the world outside.

“The anonymity of the sex is much more interesting,” he added on, half in thought, half occupied by moving the pen within his finger in an uninterrupted and steady rhythm.

“How anonymous is it if you know his name?” Iwaizumi asked, making a solid point with it. A point that Oikawa didn’t want to make a note of. Because, well, Iwaizumi was right, but Oikawa wasn’t one to admit that and give Iwaizumi bragging rights about being right about something. Not in this life, or the next.

“But he doesn’t know mine.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t want him chanting your name when you fuck him, begging you to give it to him harder by specifically calling your name out loud?”

Oikawa moved his gaze slowly to his best friend, the pen never stopping. “Are you trying to make me horny?”

“Didn’t you just fuck him last night?” Iwaizumi asked, rearing back a little.

“Yeah,” Oikawa confirmed, shifting his gaze out the window and then back to Iwaizumi. “So?”

“And I got you all hot and bothered by just casually asking if you want him to say your name when you fuck him?”

“What can I say?” Oikawa shrugged with a satisfied grin plastered on his face just to irk Iwaizumi. “The sex is that good with him. Can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Fuck, you have it bad for him.”

Oikawa wanted to protest but, for an unknown reason, couldn’t. He bit his lip, like he was keeping back a response, when in reality he was without one.

“Are you sure you want to keep the sex anonymous much longer?”

Oikawa, once again, didn’t answer. He had to actually give the question and his answer some thought.  Did he want to have anonymous sex with the guy that occupied most of his thoughts?

 

 

*

 

 

He was still thinking over that one question when he made his way home a couple of hours later, after Iwaizumi had kicked him out because he had a date and apparently third wheels weren't appreciated.

Their loss.

His mind was in a seesaw as his decision went from one end to the other - up on the other side to tell the guy his name, and then up on the other side as he thought of the positive sides of keeping themselves nameless.

He didn’t even consider the unfairness of the situation they were in, on so many aspects. It wasn’t just the name, but the other guys that Sugawara was fucking as well.

It was just stuck on what he wanted – did he want Sugawara to know his name or not?

And what it might lead to if they got to know their names? Would they find out each other’s jobs too, would Oikawa bring Sugawara to his apartment to switch up on the places that they had wild and loud sex at?

His thoughts came to a halt as he caught a glimpse of a familiar hair color a few meters out, exiting the front door of his apartment building. Before he could get a good look at the face of the man pulling a hood over their head to shield themselves from the drizzle, the light reflected from the tall window on the door, obscuring his vision for that faithful second.

It would’ve been too much of a coincidence if the man he’d been frequently fucking was visiting someone who lived in the same apartment building as him, wouldn’t it?

Yes, it would, Oikawa decided as he took one last look over his shoulder towards the direction the man had disappeared to as he opened the door and let himself inside the warm foyer.

There was no way that in a city of a millions of citizens, of a millions of apartments, of thousands of tall buildings, they’d somehow run into each other anywhere. Maybe passing each other on some street, but even that sounded like a stretch, even though the man didn’t live more than a handful of blocks away, although in a different neighborhood. Like, the line between the two neighborhoods was just as the backyard of Sugawara’s building.

Oikawa felt the disturbance in the force again as the elevator doors opened and he got in, but reasoned it away with the sound of the building’s door opening again and a gust of wind blowing inside. He held the door open for his neighbor two floors down that ran for the elevator, one good deed for the day in the bag.

He leaned his back to the far wall of the elevator as it ascended, reaffirming the earlier thought to himself.

There was no way.

It would be too much of a coincidence.

A very bad joke from the universe.

There couldn’t be any crossover in their friends or acquaintances for them ever to come across each other anywhere else but at the man’s apartment. At least as long as the sex remained partly anonymous, nameless and stringless.

 

 

*

 

 

Terushima rubbed his face with his hands as he woke up, and the first thing he did after was check his cell phone.

6:00 p.m.

There were the usual, some twitter notifications, a message from a friend about going out that night, and surprisingly, a message from Suga.

With a slightly speculatively raised eyebrow, not really knowing what to expect, what Suga would text him about since the messages could range from one extreme to the other.

Once he’d texted him asking if he wanted nuggets too, which was random but was quickly made sense of when Suga and Daichi came barreling into the apartment with arms full of fast food containers. Another time, Suga had texted him _‘tweety’,_ which had been a too confusing call for him to come over. 

Without expecting much, he opened the message.

 

**Suga:** Are you busy tonight?

 

Terushima pondered for a while what to think about the text, what Suga might mean with it, worrying his dry and cracked lips with this teeth.

With a sharp exhale he thought it best to just ask.

 

**Why**

 

Thinking he wouldn’t get a reply right away, he dropped his cell phone next to him on the pillow, and jumped three feet in the air when the device buzzed right next to his ear.

 

**Suga:** Want to come over?

 

A slow smirk grew on Terushima’s face as he replied. It had been a while. He wasn’t one to think too hard on the reasons behind Suga asking him to come over.

He asked, and Terushima was more than happy to go over.

Because, well, Suga never disappointed.

 

**tweety**

*****

 

_... but I’m never first to you, only the second, if even that_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, over the summer I watched Into the Woods, and I didn't make it till the end credits because I got so uncomfortable with the lyrics of the songs and with the story and I just... Couldn't deal and had to work out my frustration about it by writing it into this story.  
> As far as I'm concerned, the giant ate them all.  
> (I'm sorry for offending anyone with the opinions expressed in this fic) I feel like that's a disclaimer I should put in, just in case. (Also, I apologize if I end up spoiling movies for you, I'll try and keep the details about the movies Suga and Daichi watch vagueish so I don't end up spoiling anything, but I can't promise anything. 
> 
> And, as a side note, just in case it's not clear, Suga is really, properly messed up.  
> More will be revealed about him when Oikawa starts to learn more about him, but at this point in the story, you, the readers, know more than Oikawa, but it will change soon. 
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


	8. It started on 151015...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to ruin Sleeping Beauty in this one for you (starts with "on the schedule the next sunday, daichi and suga had sleeping beauty..." and you're safe from the uncalled for hate for true love's kiss when the last scene starts with "hours later...") 
> 
> Good luck :)

 

 

_Even if you make me sad, even if you’re the cause of my tears and my aching heart..._

 

 

*

 

 

Sugawara opened the door while talking on the phone, and gestured for Oikawa to come in, stepping aside to make way.

“- and Kageyama can run through them,” Oikawa caught the tail end of what the man was saying as he took his shoes off, letting the door close after him on its own. “Can you hold on a moment?”

Sugawara lowered the phone and pressed something on the screen, most likely muting the call, and turned to him. “Hey, I’m sorry about this,” he said with a sheepish smile. “It’s a work call. Do you mind if I finish it?”

“It’s fine,” Oikawa replied with a shake of his head.

“I won’t take long,” Sugawara promised in a rush, his finger already hovering over the mute button. “Make yourself comfortable.” He gestured to his apartment at large and disappeared into the bedroom, already talking on the phone.

Oikawa meandered into the narrow living room as he unwrapped his thick wool scarf, and pulled it and shed his jacket off and left them on the back of the couch when he went to sit down on it.

The computer on the desk was on, the bright screen showing the same music production software that Oikawa had seen the man work on before. He had clearly been working on it right before Oikawa came over, probably had been working on it when Oikawa had texted him. But that wasn’t all.

There were sheets of music covering the coffee table, and various other papers that looked like some kind of work documents. Oikawa didn’t take too good of a look, no matter how much he wanted to, and yeah, fine, okay, he might’ve read the first paragraph of what was obviously a contract of some sort.

He glanced behind him towards the bedroom, where Sugawara was still talking on a phone, his voice somewhat audible but words muffled by the closed door, only left open a fraction.

Good.

Oikawa moved to sit on the edge of the couch, closer to the coffee table and the tempting papers there. He wanted to take a closer look at the music sheets.

They were unnamed, all of them, from what Oikawa could see without moving anything around, apart from some numbers. He tried to hear the melody in his head as he read through the notes, imagined playing the piece on his piano.

He wasn’t sure if the man had written the song, or had gotten the sheets from somewhere. But it was clear as a day that the Sugawara worked in music. It wasn’t just a hobby or something the man dabbled in.

Most likely, he was a producer.

Oikawa sighed as he came to the conclusion, peeking into the notebook at the corner of the coffee table with a pen left between the pages, notes about changes and ideas written down for progressions and beats.

Yep, definitely a producer.

“- I have six of the remixes done, seventh needs an okay but I’m meeting with PD on Monday –“ Oikawa heard Sugawara say as he must’ve passed by the slightly left open bedroom door.

Most definitely, without a doubt, a producer.

Oikawa pursed his lips as he thought about it, unsure of what to think of this new information, his eyes moving on the documents and the music left out in the open for everyone to see. Did Sugawara want him to see them? Did he not think that Oikawa could see them and draw conclusions from them?

For a man who seemed so adamant not to share any personal information, this seemed a weird oversight.

Or, did Sugawara just not care?

Oikawa pondered shortly of asking him about the music, if maybe, possibly, he was more open to talk about it now than he had been before summer.

The moment allocated for thinking of it was cut short when he heard the mysterious man’s voice again, this time saying goodbye to whoever he was talking to, probably a work colleague.

He scooted back quickly on the couch so it wasn’t so obvious that he’d been studying the materials covering the coffee table, and just in time too, before the door opened and Sugawara came out.

He tried to appear as inconspicuous as he could, putting on a bored face.

He wasn’t sure if it fooled Sugawara or not, but it didn’t matter when in a matter of seconds he had his lap full of the man, straddling him and kissing him.

“Sorry that took so long,” Sugawara said as he parted their lips for a brief moment to take a breath.

“It’s okay,” Oikawa shook his head again, dismissing the apology as unnecessary, his hands sliding down the man’s back to his ass to grasp it and pull him closer, grinding their hips together.

Sugawara was instantly kissing him again, beyond wanton, as if he’d been waiting for a lifetime for something that people had hyped up to him, going in with expectations and having all of them met.

“Want to fuck here?” Oikawa asked when Sugawara was almost relentlessly grinding in his lap. It seemed that they wouldn’t be able to make it to the bedroom this time.

“I don’t have lube here,” Sugawara said as he kissed down Oikawa’s jaw and down his neck.

Oikawa was breathing harder and faster, and he was kind of hoping that he wouldn’t have to relocate. He was getting hard, his boner demanding for more than just the rub of his clothes against it.

“I can go get it,” Sugawara suggested, thankfully, in middle of the trail of kisses he was leaving on his neck.

“Go,” Oikawa urged him immediately, with a pat on his ass as he scampered off of his lap like there was a fire under his tail.

Oikawa took his shirt off while he waited for Sugawara to return, but decided to leave the removal of his pants to the man. He was curious to find out how he might do it, if there was a blowjob possibility.

His eyes caught on the music left out for easy perusing, but the desire to ask about it had vanished, and he didn’t bring it up when Sugawara returned, throwing a condom at him before he was back in his lap, as if he’d never even left – his hands busy on Oikawa’s bare chest and abdomen and everywhere where he could touch nothing but skin, and kissing him with urgency and need.  

“Fuck,” Sugawara whispered with reverence as his hands slid down from Oikawa’s shoulders, leaning back so his gaze could follow the movement on the expanse of the naked torso. “This is really unfair.”

Oikawa smirked, as suave as ever, pleased by the compliment. He knew he looked good, hot, handsome, delectable, attractive, pick-your-generic-compliment-for-a-Ken-doll, in most people’s perspective. But it didn’t lessen the flattery, and he lowered his eyelids as he grinned.

Who knew going to the gym with Iwaizumi almost every day would be good for his sex life?

“Take your clothes off,” he instructed Sugawara, bringing him back from his reverie about the firmness of his muscles and smoothness of his skin, and picked up the bottle of lube the man had left on the couch cushion next to them.

“Only if I can take your pants off. I want to suck you off.” Sugawara’s eyes dropped down to where his hips were snug and faintly grinding against Oikawa’s.

“Be my guest,” Oikawa gestured to his clothed erection with a hand. He could’ve sworn that he noticed a quick scrunch of Sugawara’s nose from distaste, but it was gone too soon for him to be sure, and replaced with a ghost of a grin and a look under eyebrows as the man lowered himself to kneel on the floor between Oikawa’s legs.

The look, the way Sugawara licked his lips only intensified the building need in Oikawa to have something, _anything,_ wrapped around his dick. Whether it was a hand or a mouth, or both, he wasn’t fussy. As long as it was soon.

With none of the tentativeness he might’ve once had in his touch during the first few times that they’d hooked up, Oikawa placed his hand on the back of Sugawara’s head, his fingers sliding and tangling into the fair locks of hair. “Are you a music producer?”

Oikawa froze immediately after, or maybe after a second’s delay when the words and the fact that he’d said them out loud registered to him.

Sugawara leaned back just a little, looking up at him with something akin to suspicion.

Oikawa wanted to curse at himself, but willed his face to show none of the embarrassment, deciding to stand behind his question.

“Yeah,” the man said slowly, the vowels dragging, as he rose from his kneeling position on the floor, his hands on the couch cushions pushing him up. “We’re doing this in the bedroom. It’s more comfortable there. The floor’s killing my knees.” He took Oikawa’s hand that had dropped from his hair as he stood up and pulled him off of the couch and after him towards the bedroom.

And Oikawa had no idea if Sugawara even answered his question, or had really decided not to and the _“yeah”_ was just him coming to the conclusion that they’re not going to fuck in the living room.

Whatever.

It’s not like Oikawa was disappointed that Sugawara hadn’t answered. It’s not like he cared whether he was a music producer or not.

It really didn’t matter.

The sex was great anyways.

 

 

*

 

 

Oikawa was jolted awake by the sudden movement next to him.

“Fuck!”  

Oikawa scrunched his eyes closed tighter at the loud curse. It was an errand thought, a short observation, fast forgotten as he turned to his side to return to his sweet dreams.

“What are you doing here?”

Oikawa mumbled a reply that quite literally was just a mumble, not quite awake or present in the moment, unconcerned of his surroundings that weren’t a soft bed, his hand grasping at air as he tried to reach for the covers.

“You’re not supposed to stay.”

 _What?_ Oikawa wondered sleepily and blinked one eye open to see the person who was having a one sided conversation with him.

He was too sleepy to think too much about it first when he saw his fuck buddy lying on his back next to him, his hands covering his eyes and fingers in his hair like he was in great distress.

The man suddenly sat up and practically flew out of the bedroom, a loud bang that reminded Oikawa of a door closing carrying after him, finally awaking him as well to the reality that was – he’d slept over at the man’s apartment.

When he wasn’t supposed to.

When he wasn’t allowed to.

He was suddenly awake, and flung himself off the bed, frantically searching his clothes, only remembering that he’d taken off his shirt in the living room when he’d gone through the bedroom at least three times.

There was a thought behind his movements that propelled him into action, to hurriedly find his clothes and somehow managing to put them on the right way and not inside out, as if the faster he got out the apartment, the more he could convince himself and everyone else in the world that he hadn’t stayed over. That he hadn’t fallen asleep.

It didn’t matter, though, how fast he was rushing out of the apartment. It wouldn’t change the fact that he’d _fucked up._ He only stopped by the bathroom door as he heard the shower running, the water hitting the floor at jagged intervals, like someone really was in the shower and hadn’t just turned it on to mask other sounds.

He knocked on the door, for he had to make sure. “Are you okay?”

He needed to know that he hadn’t royally fucked up by falling asleep in the man’s bed.

“I’m okay,” the reply came, muffled by the shower and the door.

“Okay, well, I’m going now.”

No response.

“I’ll see you later,” Oikawa called through the door, hoping that he hadn’t screwed up. Hoping that last night hadn’t been the last he’d seen or heard of Sugawara.

It took a while, and Oikawa had almost given up on waiting for it when the man replied. “Yeah.”

He wasn’t sure whether to trust the sincerity of the reply, but decided to go with it, for now. He could apologize later again, if it would even be needed. Maybe Sugawara had sped out of the bed like Wile. E. Coyote with an Acme rocket on his back because he was going to be late for work. It was a weekday after all, a working day for those who had a job with set working hours.

But at the moment, Oikawa got the distinct feeling that Sugawara didn’t want to be in the same room with him.

His observation of that was based on the way the man had _cursed, escaped the room, and locked himself in the bathroom._

He definitely needed to do some damage control, but later when Sugawara wasn’t so thrown off by his forbidden sleepover. When the image of the distress on the man’s features wasn’t burned on Oikawa’s mind like a cruel reminder of the screw up. When...

When?

The next time that they got together to fuck?

Who knew?

But Oikawa wasn’t willing to let go of his hope that this wasn’t too bad, that he’d be able to have phenomenal, mind-blowing sex with Sugawara again soon.

 

 

*

 

 

Bokuto looked at himself in the full-body mirror hang up on the wall close to the front door, admiring how spiffy and handsome he looked in his fancier than usual clothes. Yep, he was definitely going to get dick tonight, he was absolutely certain. He shot his mirage with finger guns with a lopsided smile.

And was scared out of his mind when the front door suddenly opened.

“Oh, hey Suga,” he greeted with a hand on his heart in relief. At least it didn’t seem like Suga had seen him embarrass himself in front of the mirror. “Long time no see!” he tagged on more cheerfully, trying to appear casual and not like his heart had been in his throat for a second there.

“Yeah, I know,” Suga said with a small smile. “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy.”

Bokuto waved his hand dismissively. “It’s okay. I get it. I’ve been busy myself.” He gave Suga a more appraising look when he was focused on getting his shoes off without opening the laces. “How are you?”

Suga looked up and flashed a wide smile, which seemed a little bit too overdone but not necessarily fake. Bokuto wasn’t sure, he couldn’t read Suga the way that Daichi could, so he decided not to call him out on it and accepted it, decided to believe the smile was genuine.

“Okay,” Suga answered then, wrestling his heel out of his shoe and pushing it off and adding it to the mess of shoes already and always taking up the floor space by the door.  He gave Bokuto a once over. “You look excited. Big night?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto replied with a laugh. “Date night.”

“I hope you have fun.”

“Thanks,” Bokuto beamed, still studying Suga who was looking around curiously, as if looking for someone. Kuroo had told him that Daichi had told him that Suga was back on medication. Which, yeah it was a good thing. But it was a sign of something bad too.

“Is Daichi home?” Suga moved his gaze directly to him.

“Oh, yeah,” Bokuto replied, with a lot of enthusiasm as he was startled from his observations. “In his room,” he gestured towards the hall leading to the ‘south wing’, towards Daichi’s room.

“Thanks,” Suga waved and disappeared down a hallway.

Bokuto turned back to the mirror.

Yep, definitely getting dick tonight.

 

*

 

Daichi leaned back in his desk chair, his head tilted to the side as he tracked his gaze along Kuroo’s body, starting from the profile of his face, the slope of his nose, his lips, the angle of his jaw. And down the neck where a hickey was partly covered by the collar of the shirt. Kuroo was leaning his arm on the desk as his other hand was moving the mouse, standing back from the desk so his torso was in 90 degree angle, and long legs for everyone in the room, which was just Daichi at the moment, to admire.

What he wouldn’t give to be able to have just the slightest touch, to feel the firmness of the muscles, to have the confirmation of the strength he knew Kuroo possessed in his body. What he wouldn’t sacrifice to be able to feel the warmth and the smoothness of his skin under his palm. To trace his fingertips down the spine, dance along the collarbones. To run his hand through the hair, to gaze into his eyes without a worry that all his secrets would be out for everyone to read as plain as the text on the biggest jumbotron in the world.

He would trade places with just about anyone in the world if it gave him the chance to spend a whole day with Kuroo, to just talk, and laugh, and _be_ with him.

A knock at his door pulled him from his admiring, thirsting if you want to get technical. “Yeah?” he called, disappointed that his time alone with Kuroo was disrupted, and a little bit relieved, in case his thoughts got anymore immersive and he would be not just knee-deep in the pool of his love for Kuroo but suddenly neck-deep in the quicksand of his pining for his roommate who was in a polyamorous relationship.

The door opened a fraction and Suga’s head poked inside. “Hey.”

“Hey Suga!” Daichi was happy to see his friend, and let it show with a relieved sigh. He might’ve been a little worried that the knocker had been Bokuto, worried that he’d see that he’d been eye-fucking his boyfriend. “What are you doing here?”

Kuroo straightened from his leaning position as Suga opened the door wider.

“Just –“ Suga started to answer, but halted when he must’ve noticed Kuroo. “Nothing much,” he clearly changed his answer.

“What’s up Suga?” Kuroo greeted him, all mellow and relaxed. And Daichi was relieved again for it seemed that Kuroo was oblivious to his less than subtle ogling.

“Not my dick now that I saw you,” Suga quipped, standing inside the room in the open doorway, casually leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. It was too put on, and Daichi wanted to ask why he was trying to appear more casual than he was actually feeling, but decided not to in front of Kuroo. One, Suga wouldn’t give a straight, truthful answer. Two, Suga wouldn’t want to be called out on it in front of Kuroo, or anyone for that matter.

“How original,” Kuroo chuckled with a smirk.

Daichi smiled, delighted to hear the sound of Kuroo’s faint laugh, pulling him away from wondering about his friend’s put on front of nonchalance. His heart might’ve stuttered in time and beat with the laugh, demanding all of his attention to bodily react to the sound, and he swallowed thickly to cover it.

It didn’t fool Suga, though, that much was obvious from the way his best friend flicked his eyes to him. Or maybe Suga looked at him because he knew how much Daichi loved Kuroo’s laugh. One of the few things that they actually disagreed about, one of the _very few_ – Daichi loved Kuroo’s laugh, Suga found it a little obnoxious and too loud. But Daichi didn’t mind that Suga didn’t share his opinion of how lovely Kuroo’s laugh was to him, or how celestial his eyes were and how delightful his wit or sense of humor was, or how his mere presence and existence in the world brightened every room. It was okay to have different opinions. It’s not like Daichi found every guy Suga had fucked all that fuckable. But then again, he was demi, and only attracted to Kuroo.

“We were just checking the free wifi Kenma hooked up for us,” Kuroo gestured to the computer, to the Youtube video of cats that he’d selected to try out the speed of the connection.

“Free wifi?” Suga questioned, his gaze returning to Kuroo. “From where?”

“Don’t ask,” Kuroo flicked his wrist, motioning for him to drop the questioning.

“And if anyone does ask, I don’t know anything,” Daichi said, raising his hands in surrender.

“But it’s really unbelievably fast so we’re not complaining,” Kuroo said like he was a proud father.

Suddenly Bokuto clapped his hands on Suga’s shoulders from behind, startling Daichi, just a little, to his appearance, while Suga didn’t bare the invasion of personal space any mind at all. Maybe he’d heard Bokuto approaching the room, the sound of his footsteps in the hallway, but too faint to carry into the room. Or maybe Suga was just that zen that he wasn’t a little bit phased by Bokuto suddenly coming up behind him. It was one or the other.

“Hey Tetsu, you coming?” Bokuto asked, looking at his boyfriend over Suga’s shoulder. “We’ll be late to pick up Keiji.”

“Oh yeah!” Kuroo seemed to remember that they had plans and smoothed the front of his shirt as he walked across the room. “See you later guys!” he called out as he exited the room, following after Bokuto.

“Bye, have fun,” Suga wished after them.

And then it was silent, except for the light chatter of Kuroo and Bokuto they could hear carrying down the hallway, growing more and more faint and inaudible the farther they went with every passing second.

“So, why are you here?” Daichi asked when he couldn’t hear the two anymore, and rolled his chair over to the desk to favorite the video Kuroo had shown him.

“I just came to hang,” Suga answered. He was looking out the window when Daichi swiveled his chair around to look at him. “I’m still allowed to do that, right?” Suga asked from whatever he saw outside.

“Of course,” Daichi answered easily and stood up. “You’re always welcome here.”

Suga turned his head to smile at him.

Daichi smiled back, as genuinely as he could to go with the sincerity of his words. “So, what do you feel like doing while we hang?” he asked as he rolled up his sleeves.

“I don’t know,” Suga shrugged.

Daichi considered Suga’s behavior, how casual he’d seemed, the smile that had lit up his face when he’d first poked his head in now gone, how subdued he let himself appear when there wasn’t an audience in the room watching him, only Daichi. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Sure,” Suga agreed with a small smile. But it seemed all Suga had the strength for in his face muscles.

Daichi nodded and took the point in leading them to the common area, or the living room.

“Where is everyone?”  Suga asked.

“I’m not sure. Probably just out doing whatever,” Daichi replied, unbothered by his roommates’ activities. It was quiet in the apartment now that Kuroo and Bokuto had left, and he wouldn’t be surprised at all if he and Suga were the only ones in the apartment at the moment.

“Who’s Oikawa?”

Daichi turned to look at Suga and saw his attention drawn to the fridge door, on the list of chores for everyone to do.

“Oh, he’s our new roommate. Iwaizumi’s friend.”

“When did he move in?” Suga looked intrigued, his head tilted to the side when he looked to Daichi.

“Uh...” Daichi had to think back for a moment. “At the start of April.”

There was a silent pause, Suga unmoving while Daichi went to turn the tv on.

“That was six months ago.”

“Yeah, I know,” Daichi answered quickly, bypassing the comment in hopes that Suga would give up on it, busying himself on finding them something to watch, as soon as he could uncover the remote control.

“And in all that time you didn’t bother to tell me that you got a new roommate?” Suga sounded like he was about to start laughing.

Daichi frowned as he considered the couch, if the remote had fallen between the cushions, horrified of having to put his hand there. “It never came up.”

“In six months?”

Okay, Suga definitely sounded like he was teasing Daichi now.

“Were you afraid of something?”

Yep, that was definitely, without any doubt, teasing.

“No, it just never came up. I’m actually surprised he still lives here.” Daichi lifted the blanket that had been thrown on the couch when it wasn’t needed anymore, and let out a small exhale out of relief when he saw the remote.

“Okay,” Suga accepted.

“Don’t fuck him,” Daichi warned in a mild tone, more of just reminding Suga not to mess with his roommates. They’d had this talk so many times it was unnecessary. Or it should be.

“I won’t,” Suga replied nonchalantly, too breezily for Daichi’s liking.

“I mean it, Suga.” He looked from the tv to Suga as sternly as he could. “No sex of any kind, no blowjobs, or handjobs, or jobs of any kind that are new and I haven’t heard of yet. Nothing. No touching of private parts with any parts.”

Suga was quiet, the smile gone again. “I get it, Daichi.”

Daichi nodded as he turned back to the tv, a new tension thickening in the air between him and Suga. It’s not that Daichi didn’t trust Suga. It just was really important to him that Suga wouldn’t have sex with any of his roommates. It would just end up being plain awkward afterwards.

“I think I’m going to go.”

“What?” Daichi looked at Suga in surprise, walking towards the front door.

“I have to get up earlier than usual tomorrow for a meeting so I better go. If I stay for the movie it’ll be late when I get home.” Suga’s excuse sounded flimsy to Daichi, but he didn’t protest.

He knew his earlier vehement comment, plead, practically a command, had changed Suga’s mind about hanging. And it was clear that Suga had come to talk about something.

Daichi felt bad, and wracked his brain for something to save the situation.

“We’ll hang some other time,” Suga promised before Daichi could come up with anything that would convince his best friend to stay, crouching by the front door as he struggled to put his shoes on, the smallest hint of a smile just barely tugging at the edges of his mouth.

“Yeah, okay,” Daichi agreed, feeling disappointed and really fucking bad about upsetting Suga. “Sunday?” he asked, hopeful.

“Yeah,” Suga nodded with a slightly wider smile, more pronounced in his eyes now, like it was actually genuine.

Daichi watched him open the door, the remote control hanging in his limp hand. “Hey, Suga!” he called before he had the chance to let the door close.

Suga pressed his hand against the contraption to keep it open, a loud _‘thwack’_ from his palm meeting the wood.

“You’re still taking your medication, right?” he checked, concerned by Suga’s faint gloominess, as if he had a thin curtain of grey clouds veiling him. He wanted to make sure that Suga was okay after the blunder in the code of friendship he’d somehow managed to pull off.

“Yeah,” Suga breathed the answer.

Daichi accepted his answer with a nod and an encouraging smile, waving goodbye with the hand holding the remote. The door closed with a click, the sound of the lock, leaving him alone. He threw the remote lazily back to the couch, and it landed on the blanket as he sighed. He was disappointed in himself, and wondered how he could be a better friend to Suga.

 

 

 

*

 

 

Fast forward a couple of weeks, and Oikawa was frustrated and anxiously turning his cell phone in his hands.

For almost three weeks his messages to Sugawara had gone unanswered.

And he was sure that he’d fucked up when he stayed over the night by accident, and that the man had written him off by now.

But he couldn’t help but hope that the man had lost his phone, or was insanely busy, or had some other innocent excuse why he wasn’t replying. 

“What’s up?” Kuroo asked when he threw himself on the couch with a mochi, interrupting Oikawa on his alone time.

“Not much,” Oikawa answered absentmindedly, twirling the cell phone, staring up at the corner where the wall met the ceiling. It was a great place to look at when deep in thought.

“You seem troubled.”

“I’m fine.”

“Come on, tell the doctor what bothers you,” Kuroo encouraged, prodding him with a finger on his side.  

Oikawa swatted the hand away and gave him a contemplative look, considering, and dropped the phone next to him on the couch. “I’ve been kind of seeing this guy, strictly just sex. But he hasn’t replied to my messages for a couple of weeks.”

“Hmm,” Kuroo hummed as he chewed, and swallowed. “Did something happen?”

“I don’t know.” Oikawa shrugged, as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. “I mean, I slept over at his place this one time and after that I haven’t heard of him. But I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

Kuroo’s cheek was puffed out at a place where his tongue must’ve been pushing on it from the inside as he thought. “Some people are weird about sleeping someplace else, or letting others sleep at their place. Keiji wouldn’t sleep here for the first few months that we dated.”

“Yeah, but, wasn’t there like five other people living here back then?” Oikawa pointed out, thinking back to what he’d gathered about the relationship between the three. “That’s a little different from this guy not letting me sleep over when he lives alone.”

“Are you sure about that?” Kuroo squinted one eye at him, suspicious of his answer. “What if he has a boyfriend that works nights and could come home in the morning and catch you?”

Oikawa scoffed. “That would be one really shitty boyfriend the guy is being and now I want to stay over for his boyfriend to catch me so he’d find out he’s dating an asshole.”

“You want to be the piece that ruins their fake-happy relationship?” Kuroo asked with an expression a mix of a grin and awe, as if the idea of it was amusing, although horrifying too.

“I don’t know. We’re getting off the topic here.” Oikawa sat up straighter, pushing himself up on the soft, sinking cushions. “Besides, the guy doesn’t seem the type.”

“Are you sure? How much do you know about him?”

“Well, I ....” Oikawa trailed off, Hanamaki’s words from months ago coming back to him, of wondering what the guy was hiding when he wouldn’t tell him his name.

His thinking was interrupted when Sawamura came home from work, and Kuroo greeted him immediately.

“Hey, Daichi,” Kuroo invited Sawamura to join their conversation, motioning with his hand for him to come closer to the couch, effectively making Oikawa glare at him. “If you were seeing a guy that suddenly stopped replying to your messages, what would you think?”

Sawamura looked pensive, stopped in the middle of the room as he thought, unzipping his coat. “That he’s not interested anymore?” he asked with a slight frown.

He clearly guessed, but Oikawa hated how possibly truthful his answer sounded, hated how Kuroo involving Sawamura into the discussion had pointed it out to him.

“Why?” Sawamura asked as he came to stand by the couch. He looked like he wanted to sit down next to Kuroo, but something kept him from doing that. Well, not _something,_ Oikawa was well aware why Sawamura sometimes kept a not-so-subtle distance from Kuroo. The yearning in Sawamura’s eyes was almost tangible at times, and Oikawa was convinced that either Kuroo was legally blind not to see it, or didn’t bother to pay enough attention to notice it. Either way, it wasn’t Oikawa’s problem, or his place to say anything about it, so he stayed at a respectable distance away from it – not saying anything out loud to the two, or anyone else, but thinking of a lot of things to say about it when he was having private discussions in his head with himself. You know those epic conversations that you have late at night staring into the abyss of darkness when you convinced yourself of how pathetic your life was? Yes, those conversations. However, it would be a great source for some lyrics to write about, about unrequited love, wanting someone you couldn’t have and all that faux-romantic stuff that shouldn’t be romanticized at all.

“Oikawa’s been seeing a guy who stopped messaging him. We’re wondering why that was,” Kuroo answered Sawamura, looking up to him.

“How serious were you two?” Sawamura was genuinely interested, moving his gaze from Kuroo, with a slight drag in the movement of his eyes as if he didn’t want to look away from his crush, to Oikawa.

“Not very,” Oikawa admitted, picking up his cell phone to check if he’d gotten a message, a call, any sign of life from Sugawara. “I’ve been thinking of dropping by his place to see if he’s still alive.”

“Maybe you should,” Kuroo surprised him with his full support for the idea. “Then when you ask him for why he’s not texting you anymore, at least you’ll get an answer and you know.”

Oikawa considered it, but decided to ask for Iwaizumi’s advice too. He knew Iwaizumi would be furious if he went and messed up with his strictly-sex –relationship with his fuckbuddy without his knowledge beforehand... And knowing how disappointed Iwaizumi would be either way, already envisioning the scowl that would be on his friend’s face, whether he knew about it or not before he did so made him want to just skip contacting Iwaizumi altogether and just go forward with his original idea of a drop by.

“How long has he been radio silent?” Sawamura asked.

Oikawa sighed with disappointment about the blankness of notifications on the screen of his phone. “A couple of weeks.”

Daichi moved his gaze to the side with a nodding motion of his head. “To me it sounds like he’s blowing you off and he’s now hoping that you finally take the hint.”

“Sawamura, cold!” Kuroo was shocked, with a smirk.

Oikawa still hated how right Sawamura probably was, but maybe with a slight bit more vehemence in it. He threw one of the blankets on the couch after Sawamura’s furthering back as the man walked away from them towards the direction of his bedroom.

Of course the blanked didn’t hit the intended target, but dropped to the floor like a... well, a blanket. Kuroo laughed at the way it just flumped to the ground and Oikawa brought his phone up in front of his face, the black screen showing the mirror image of his own disappointed scowl.

 

 

*

 

 

On the schedule the next Sunday, Daichi and Suga had Sleeping Beauty. They’d seen it before many times, but that didn’t matter. The good fairies were _delightful_ with their subpar cooking and sewing skills _,_ and the dragon was just plain awesome. They always broke out the handkerchiefs when it died – the fire-breathing beauty was the best thing about the movie, and they had been outraged the first time they saw the movie. Rightly so, in their own opinion. The magic that directed the sword straight to the dragon’s heart had lowered the points of the ‘good’ fairies in their eyes.

Dragons were cool, always, even if they had been transformed from an evil queen. They didn’t deserve to be murdered.

“Stranger danger,” Suga commented with indifference in his tone of voice next to Daichi, stuffing the last piece of his slice of pizza into his mouth.

“Stranger danger?” Daichi questioned, looking between Suga and the tv screen.

“I’m getting some Into-the-Woods-Johnny-Depp-Big-Bad-Wolf-child-predator -vibes from the prince,” Suga replied, as soon as he had swallowed. “Seriously, I’m going to kill Kuroo for ever asking us to watch that horrific excuse of a movie musical. He’s ruined so many movies for me with that one.”

Daichi chuckled, and reached for the last slice in the pizza box. “But stranger-danger?” he had to ask again, with the amusement of his incredulity about Suga’s comment lacing his voice with faint laughter.

“The dude –“

“Prince,” Daichi corrected.

Suga shot him a quick look for interrupting with something so trivial. Daichi grinned.

“The prince creeped up on her, secretly watched her dance and sing in the woods with the forest wildlife, then startled her, and she was right to get the hell out of there as soon as possible, but no, the dude –“

“The prince.”

 _“The prince_ grabbed her and forced her to sing and dance with him. I mean, come on. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t be reaching for your mace and a standard police issued taser if that happened to you.”

“He fell in love with her, and they knew each other, even if they didn’t quite know that yet,” Daichi explained patiently.

“She’s sixteen!”

“Fifteen. She pricks her finger on her sixteenth birthday,” Daichi continued as calmly as before. Suga’s rants about the princess movies were source of great amusement to him, and he was quite used to them. Since this wasn’t the first time that they’d seen the animation, he’d heard the point about the princess’ age before from Suga. “And they were betrothed.”

“He’s still a creep who kills the best character in the movie.”

Daichi looked at Suga, a little bit confused. “I thought you thought the blue fairy was the best?”

“Merryweather?” Suga asked, suddenly calm again. “Yeah, she is, and blue is definitely a better choice of a color for the dress.”

Daichi let out a surprised exhale, or laughter. “That’s why you think she’s the best?”

“Yeah.”

This was news to Daichi, who’d always assumed that Suga liked her as the best because of her attitude.

“Okay, cool.” And he took a bite of the pizza, unbothered.

“Don’t you think it’s really rude to tell a guest that wasn’t invited, that they weren’t invited when they appear uninvited?” Suga asked, sounding honestly curious.

“Yes. But so is telling parents that their child will die when she turns sixteen.”

“I’d probably want to die too if I was betrothed to someone at my birth.”

Daichi let out a breath of laugh again, eating the last of his slice that was covered with the cheese. “Really? Even if it was to a prince?”

 _“Yes,”_ Suga pressed with heaviness on the word. “And I would be just as horrified as the fairies were that she’d met a man in the woods and fell in love with him.”

“I think they were just horrified because she was already promised to a prince,” Daichi said with contemplation, throwing the crust in the pizza box left open on the coffee table, Suga quickly snatching it up and biting to it.

As Daichi returned to his earlier position of great comfortableness, he noticed Suga’s jittery foot, and moved his gaze to the tapping of his middle finger to the thumb, as if he was a smoker who went through a pack of cigarettes a day and was gasping for his next stick.

“You alright?” Daichi asked with concern, and suspicion.

“Yeah,” Suga replied without looking at him.

Daichi observed him a while longer, the fidgeting continuing undisturbed. “You’re fidgeting. You don’t usually fidget, like ever.”

Suga glanced at him mid-bite, the crust between his teeth, and forced a sharp exhale out once he was done with the piece. “I haven’t had sex in a while,” he said, his eyes laser-focused on the tv screen.

“Oh,” Daichi was surprised, quite rightly so. Abstinence wasn’t a part of Suga’s vocabulary. “How long of a while?”

“A couple of weeks.”

Daichi masked his surprise and disbelief with quickly blinking his eyes. “How come?”

“One of the side-effects of the medication that I’m on is a lowered sex drive. My dosage was upped, so I’m feeling the effects now.”

Daichi didn’t believe him – it wasn’t just the words but the lifeless delivery of them, as if read from the label at the side of a bottle – but he wasn’t sure how to bring it up without hurting Suga or prying too far into his thoughts. He knew Suga, or at least liked to think so after the years of friendship. The more his matters were pried into, the less forthcoming he would be about them. It had happened before, and Daichi really didn’t want a repeat of that. He didn’t want Suga to completely close himself off from his friends, from him.

“It hasn’t affected you before, though,” he decided to say, to let Suga know that he wasn’t buying his bullshit.

“Yeah, I guess it hasn’t,” was all Suga said to that, and Daichi understood that it was all he was willing to say about it.

And it really bothered him how little Suga told him about anything that was a bit more serious. If Suga was fucking some random guy he picked up from who-knows-where, he’d always tell him about that. But if it was something more personal, something that was deep in his head, you’d need an excavation team, some deep sea divers, a specialized team of cave divers, and a fucking knight to slay the dragon guarding Suga’s secrets, which weren’t really secrets but just his feelings.

And even if you were able to get even a little bit digging in and Suga would show something, pretty soon you’d run into a clown that would make light of the matter, maybe crack some jokes and cause a few laughs, a clown that Daichi was certain took the image of something you’d find in horror movies, wielding a bloody axe maybe. Yeah, it wasn’t a fun clown.

Daichi turned his focus back to the movie, forcing himself to pay attention to it so he could appreciate the jokes Suga would no doubt fling at the rest of the movie, and reading himself for the tears at the demise of the dragon.

“You know when Maleficent threatens the prince that she’s going to keep him locked away for a century?”

“Yeah?” Daichi remembers the scene, but wonders why Suga would bring it up during the memorable scene of blue versus pink in the cottage. The fairies really cracked him up, and he was fighting the urge to laugh.

“And that she’d only release him to see the princess when he’s about to die, and the princess wouldn’t have aged a day?”

Daichi turned his head to look at Suga, who was hugging his knee. “Yeah?” He whispered, concerned by the solemnness of Suga’s voice, the laughter forgotten as he was facing his best friend as unguarded as he’d ever seen him.

“That’s how I feel.”

Daichi had to take a moment to consider what Suga just said. What did he feel and how? And about what?

“I want to be the princess, never getting old. But I don’t want the kiss that wakes me up from the prince. In the version of my life, it would be cruel to be awoken just to witness him be happy with someone else. But I don’t want him to be unhappy either. I want the man I love to grow old and live a full and happy life before he dies. There are no kisses of true love in real life.”

Daichi lifted his hand behind Suga’s neck to bring him into a sidehug.

“And also,” Suga added from tucked into the safety of Daichi’s side and under his protective arm, his tone a little bit more picked up and lighter. “The kiss of true love is a reoccurring problem in Disney princess movies, and needs to eradicated by Lilo and her space gun.”

Daichi burst into laughter. “Lilo is the best,” he admitted.

“She doesn’t need a man to be awesome. She’s already awesome on her own.”

Daichi agreed full-heartedly, and squeezed Suga tighter against his side, sharing his warmth and platonic love. In Daichi’s opinion, Suga was already awesome on his own and didn’t need a man either. Unfortunately, Suga’s heart didn’t agree with that, and had decided to make Suga miserable. If only there was a way around the heart.

“By the way, do you think the Sword of Truth and the Shield of Virtue are euphemisms for a dick and a condom, or some other form of contraceptive?”

Predictably, the joking had surfaced after Suga’s sudden reveal of his feelings. Daichi lowered his head so his chin was hanging low and almost touching his chest, shaking his head a little and biting his bit not to laugh. Every time they watched the movie, Suga would find something vaguely referencing sex in it. Whether it was a squirrel wearing a hat too big for it, or the two eggs placed in the dough and cracked and the look on the fairy’s face at that moment, or the spindle of the spinning wheel...

 

*

 

Hours later, at Suga’s front door as Daichi slipped his boots on, Suga snickered as he waited, standing by. “I can’t believe you bought combat boots just because Kuroo once admired some guy with them.”

“I like them,” Daichi defended his choice of style. They went great with his black jeans. “They’re comfortable.”

“Are they really?” Suga raised an eyebrow at him, a mischievous smile on his lips, his cheeks rosy colored from the laughter at the ridiculously low budget special effects the last movie they’d watched had had.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Suga said, clearly not believing him, with a smile that actually looked... Happy.

Daichi smiled witnessing Suga looking so sincerely happy for once. The movie day/evening had clearly done its job in helping Suga unwind from his job, and thoughts, and feelings, and letting him just _be._ It was nice.

“You’re still coming to Kuroo’s birthday party next week?” he checked as he pulled his coat on.

Suga took Daichi’s scarf from the coatrack and wrapped it around Daichi’s neck with care. “I promised I would,” he said softly, focusing on making sure that the scarf was securely wrapped, covering Daichi’s neck from the chilly air outside.

Daichi smiled under the friendly display of affection. “Are you going to be drinking or are you going to take on the role of a responsible adult and maybe a designated driver?”

“I can drink a little, the doctor said so.”

 _Aha,_ confirmation. Suga lied about the medication and taking more of it. But Daichi didn’t find any vindication of being proven right. Actually...

Frankly, he wasn’t quite sure what to think of that. Why would Suga lie? What had happened that had caused Suga to actively abstain from sex? It wasn’t just from him telling Suga not to fuck Oikawa, was it?

If it was...

Daichi exhaled slowly, in a form reminiscent of a sigh but not quite, studying Suga’s concentrated face, the free smile, the set of his jaw as he finished with the scarf.

He knew that sex with nameless men was Suga’s escape from his thoughts, from his feelings, from his unreciprocated love for someone he was having a really hard time letting go of.

What would happen if Suga wasn’t letting his thoughts being taken over by the primal needs of physical release? Would Suga –

No, Daichi couldn’t let himself even think of the possibility that Suga would fall victim to his hopeless heart again. Besides, even if Suga seemed a little down, he didn’t seem preoccupied the way he’d seemed before... that thing that Daichi didn’t want to remember had happened.

“Is the medication helping?”

“It is,” Suga answered with sincerity, and Daichi believed him, the tight feeling of concern unwinding a little and giving his lungs more room to breathe.

“By the way, an apple a day keeps the doctor away? Not true. They just keep coming for more apples.”

Daichi chuckled, and shook his head at the predictableness of Suga making light of a situation. “Alright, see you soon,” he said and went to hug his friend.

“Text me when you get home,” Suga spoke against his shoulder, his words muffled against the fabric of Daichi’s scarf, his arms tight around Daichi’s shoulder and waist.

“I will,” Daichi promised, pulling away with some reluctance and leaving a chaste, fleeting kiss on Suga’s cheek. “Bye.”

 

 

*

 

 

_... You make me incredibly happy too and so unbelievably glad to have you in my life that I don’t understand why I would feel even a hint of sadness._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3


	9. It ended on 141115

 

 

“What do you do all day long?”

“What do you mean?” Oikawa asked without looking up from the Rubik’s cube he’d picked up from Hanamaki’s desk – his friend was a notorious collector of knick-knacks from the past decades and decorating his office space with them. In comparison, Matsukawa’s desk space was bare of anything else but his computer screens, the keyboard and the mouse.

“You’re not working, and from what we’ve gathered, you’re not writing music at the moment either.” Hanamaki snagged the cube from Oikawa’s hands in demand for him to pay attention. “What is it that you do?”

Oikawa looked at Hanamaki with annoyance, and sighed as he rested his elbows on the armrests of the chair, his hands clasped together.

“I actually have been writing,” he admitted, a little begrudgingly, shifting his gaze away. The radio silence from Sugawara had made him want to bust out his notebooks and a pen, made him sit by the keyboard.

“Oh,” Hanamaki exhaled, looking pleasantly surprised with the smile. “What kind of songs?”

“Just songs,” Oikawa shrugged, taking the empty Pez-dispenser from the desk and playing with it.

“How informative,” Hanamaki chuckled dryly. “And what is it with you and your restless hands?”

Oikawa gave Hanamaki a look. “You’re literally the first person _ever_ to complain about them,” he said with a smirk.

“That has to be a lie,” Hanamaki replied with a statement. “You’re friends with Iwaizumi.”

Oikawa chuckled, and put the Pez-dispenser back where he’d picked it up, changing it to a pen to twirl between his fingers.

“Hey, so,” Hanamaki started casually and Oikawa glanced up. “We’re going to go celebrate the company’s anniversary in a couple of weeks. Are you interested in joining us?”

“Depends on what you’re planning to do.”

“Drinks, clubbing, dancing, maybe karaoke.”

“So, definitely karaoke,” Oikawa interpreted with a cocky chuckle. “And sure, I’ll come.”

“You could ask your fuckbuddy to come too,” Hanamaki suggested, not so subtly, his eyebrows wiggling.

Oikawa scoffed. “Yeah, totally.”

A silence followed his derisive sigh, and he focused on twirling the pen.

“Did something happen?” Hanamaki asked carefully.

Oikawa glanced at him again, but quickly returned his attention to the pen, his other hand twitching to reach for another pen. Deciding to just skip the interrogation he could feel looming in Hanamaki's concerned expression, he threw the pen on the desk. “I’m going now, I have songs to write.”

“Oikawa, come on,” Hanamaki called after him. “What happened with the guy?”

“Nothing,” Oikawa said as he stopped by the open doorway. “Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing has been happening for the past weeks.” He might’ve been a little frustrated about it, about the sudden lack of signs of life from Sugawara, the lack of sexual activity, about how it happened without any sign. And yes, he was taking it out on Hanamaki, or anyone who happened to ask him about it.

“Who decided on that?”

“I’m going,” Oikawa replied, probably sufficiently answering Hanamaki’s question with his hasty retreat.

He took his phone out from his pocket as he walked down the street towards the closest station. He had an email, but that was all. It wasn’t what he wanted to see. What he wanted to see on his phone screen had been absent for weeks, and he was slowly getting dejected.

Should he just forget about Sugawara?

He hadn’t done the drop by he’d haphazardly kind of planned, ultimately coming to the decision that maybe it was too much. If Sugawara wanted to get a hold of him, he would.

But he still hadn’t.

At least there was supposed to be a party that night too, in their apartment, in the honor of Kuroo getting older. Yay. Bunch of strangers in his home, getting drunk, possibly acting irresponsibly.

Well, at least Oikawa could keep his eyes open in case someone caught his eye. Maybe he could find someone for the night that could take his mind off of his elusive fuckbuddy.

 

 

*

 

 

“Does my ass look big in these jeans?”

Oikawa stilled in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, one foot inside the apartment. He looked up and down at Kuroo, who was standing by the mirror.

“Yes.” Oikawa let the door close and he kicked his shoes off.

“Really?” Kuroo turned to look at him. “It does?”

“A little,” Oikawa shrugged.

“Don’t worry,” Bokuto hollered from somewhere further inside the apartment, and Oikawa assumed that his voice was carrying from Kuroo’s bedroom – the door there was open. “The bigger the better.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Kuroo said thoughtfully, looking over his shoulder at his behind.

Oikawa chucked shortly, an exhale of amusement as he walked past Kuroo, leaving him alone to admire his ass, and followed his nose to the kitchen as he unzipped his jacket.

He was expecting to see someone cooking, the delicious smell filling his head with anticipation of good food.

What he didn’t expect was the familiar face. He definitely didn’t expect to see his fuckbuddy quietly laughing with Sawamura.

He stopped abruptly a healthy distance away, his jacket halfway open, his mind reeling on trying to figure out _how_ it was possible for Sugawara to be at their apartment.

Was Sugawara friends with his roommates?

Was Sugawara –

Oikawa closed his eyes as the realization came to him like a freight train and opened them to make sure he hadn’t hallucinated. But there the man still was, brushing something out of Sawamura’s hair. Oikawa still wanted to dig his phone out and dial the number to make sure, but of course the music producer Sugawara was the friend “Suga” that worked with music that everyone was always telling him about.

His staring was quickly met when the man looked at him, and their eye contact held for an uncomfortably tense and long moment.

“Hi,” ‘Hot Piece of Ass’ extended his hand out towards him. “I’m Sugawara Koushi.”

Oikawa stepped closer carefully, thrown for a new loop when the man introduced him like they’d never met each other before, when in fact they’d been extremely intimate with each other.

“This is my best friend, Suga,” Sawamura took part in the introductions, looking up from the pan he was stirring something in and giving a meaningful look to Oikawa.

Oikawa shook Sugawara’s hand as the realization solidified to him – this man was The Suga. He interpreted Sawamura’s look instantly as his mind made the connections.

_This is the Suga I told you not to fuck._

Well, fuck.

“And Suga, this is our new roommate Oikawa.”

“Can you really call him a ‘new’ roommate if his already lived here for seven months?” Suga teased his best friend, letting go of Oikawa’s hand.

And Oikawa was instantly intrigued by their interaction. It was interesting to see Suga with someone else than him. It was fascinating to see him smile at his best friend so openly. This man was somehow very different from what Oikawa had witnessed before.

“Whatever,” Daichi sighed with a small laughter.

“I take it from your reaction to my name that you’ve heard of me,” Suga said with an easy smile on his face, commenting on the lack of reaction Oikawa had exhibited. But Oikawa could tell that he was rattled. He wondered if Sawamura could notice it too, but a quick glance at the man told him that Sawamura was too busy not to let anything burn to notice it.

“Your name has come up,” Oikawa admitted, instinctively flirting with him. If Suga was going to act like they’d never met before, he could follow the lead, and it would be natural for him to slip a little flirting into the conversation with him.

“I told Oikawa not to fuck you,” Sawamura commented nonchalantly.

Suga turned to his friend and slapped his arm. “Why would you do that? Now he has a wrong impression of me before we’ve even met. And if you keep warning people about fucking me before I get the chance to fuck them, how am I going to get laid any longer?”

“That’s exactly the point why I warn them,” Sawamura seemed to joke, accepting the swat like it was nothing.

“Anyway,” Suga turned back to Oikawa. “It really is nice to finally meet you, Oikawa.”

“Pleasure,” Oikawa replied in kind, accepting without further questions that they weren’t going to tell anyone that they’d already fucked.

But now he had a plethora of new questions.

 

 

*

 

 

And he couldn’t keep his eyes away from Suga.

Not because of how fascinating he was, or how his smile seemed to express at least five different things at once, or how he laughed so freely amongst his friends.

No, Oikawa was much more preoccupied by his own bafflement for not connecting the dots earlier. How had he not even suspected that the man he’d had a casual sex for half a year with was the same man he was warned not to fuck. How was it possible that he hadn’t considered the possibility that the man who he knew was a music producer was the same that Iwaizumi had told him worked at a big music company, _producing,_ how he hadn’t come to think that the “Suga” his roommates sometimes talked about was the nickname for the man he knew by the name Sugawara.

“You can’t fuck him.”

Oikawa turned his head to Iwaizumi, who was standing next to him. _Where had he come from?_

“What?”

“You can’t fuck Suga,” Iwaizumi said pointedly, his voice a little hushed in a whisper, probably so anyone else wouldn’t hear their conversation.

“Who said I was going to?” Oikawa asked, acting offended that Iwaizumi would remind him not to, like he couldn’t remember. It might’ve been months ago when he was first warned to stay away from Suga, but he hadn’t had a lobotomy.

“You keep staring at him.”

“No, I don’t,” Oikawa denied.

“Yeah, you do.”

Oikawa glanced at Iwaizumi and noticed the pointed look his friend was giving him. He huffed, and sipped his drink. “I don’t,” he said more evenly.

“He’s bound to notice if you keep watching his every move like you have and he’s going to come over and talk to you. And, I have a feeling that you’re not going to refuse him when he propositions that you two skip out early from the party.”

“He knows I was told not to fuck him.”

“Hasn’t stopped him before,” Iwaizumi said under his breath, surprisingly judgmental.

Oikawa cocked his eyebrow at him. “With whom?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Iwaizumi said, shaking his head. “Just stop staring at him. And don’t let him lure you into his bed. It won’t end well.”

“He’s not even my type,” Oikawa fibbed, getting a look from Iwaizumi like he was offended that he would lie to him. Oikawa drew a deep breath and turned his back to the living area, not to be tempted to keep looking at Suga. “Can I ask about that?”

Iwaizumi threw him a quick sideways glance. “About what?”

“Why can’t I fuck him?”

“It’s a long story.”

“So?”

“Not now. He could overhear.”

“It’s not a happy one then?” Oikawa looked over his shoulder and his eyes were automatically searching for the light grey colored head of hair.

“Not really.”

Oikawa pursed his mouth, a little bit miffed that he was the only one in the apartment who didn’t seem to know the big secret about Sugawara that made them all worry about him.

But he was going to find out. One way or another.

And yeah...

Oikawa looked down to the can in his hand. Maybe he’d had enough alcohol for one night. He was getting dangerously reckless. And maybe just a tad bit too overconfident.

“Just stay away from him,” Iwaizumi advised one more time, although Oikawa wasn’t sure if it really was advice and not a command.

Didn’t matter anyway. Suga had already established that they were to act like strangers to each other, and he was yet to look Oikawa’s way during the evening.

Oikawa was a little hurt that he was practically nothing but air to Suga, but he could understand where he was coming from if he wanted to put more thought into it. If they were told not to fuck, it would be best not to reveal that they already had.

 

 

*

 

 

“Enjoying your party?” Daichi chuckled as Kuroo hang himself on him, strong, _muscular,_ arms wrapped around his neck and delightful warmth pressed against him.

Was that his heart doubling on the beats? Yes, yes it was.

Was it distracting him from what he had been doing, from watching over Suga?

Very much so.

“I am,” Kuroo laughed, and sighed with contentment as he leaned on Daichi. “Are you having fun?”

“Yeah,” Daichi nodded, desperately trying to keep his thoughts on the straight and narrow, trying so hard not to let Kuroo’s closeness melt him into a puddle on the floor. He had more important things to keep track of.

Kuroo hummed shortly and disentangled from Daichi, stepping away to look at him, giving Daichi a chance to take a subtle but steadying breath. “Are you really? You’ve been in this corner in the kitchen for a long time alone.”

Daichi glanced at Kuroo, and then looked out back to the living room. “Yeah. Just...” He gestured vaguely towards the living room area.

“Worried about Suga?”

“No,” Daichi shook his head, but could understand why Kuroo would assume so. “Oikawa keeps staring at him.”

Kuroo looked over to the living room again. “I’m not surprised,” he shrugged, sounding remarkably sober for someone who was definitely drunk.

“What do you mean?” Daichi frowned.

Kuroo snorted. “Have you ever gone out with Suga to a club or something like that?”

“... No.”

Kuroo snorted again. “You should. Then you wouldn’t be surprised. He has a lot of eyes on him there.”

Daichi’s frown deepened. He knew that Suga had no difficulties in luring a man to his apartment for a quick one night stand. But the way Kuroo just spoke gave the impression that Suga could have his pick at a litter. And _that_ was definitely something that Daichi wasn’t aware of. Maybe he should accompany Suga some time when he went out on a prowl for an easy fuck, just to see him in action with his own eyes.

There was only one but.

He didn’t actually approve of Suga’s loose ways, and to witness would probably have him looking at Suga with a lot of judgment. Judgment that Suga would not be happy about. He could understand why Suga did what he did, but that didn’t mean that he condoned it.

He worried too much about his best friend’s health to just accept it.

So, that was a no to going out with Suga.

“Besides, I heard that you warned Oikawa not to fuck Suga,” Kuroo added nonchalantly, reaching behind Daichi’s back for a can of whatever was still left to drink. “Right?”

“Yes, I did. And Suga knows not to fuck him,” Daichi said, convincing himself to stop fretting about the eyes seemingly tracking Suga’s every move from a distance. He turned around not to be able to see the living room any longer, and focused his attention to Kuroo. “Since he’s a roommate.”

Kuroo looked at him like he wanted to say something to that, his mouth opening, but quickly snapping shut as if he’d thought better of what was on his mind. Daichi wasn’t sure whether to nudge him to just say what he was about to, and decided not to... Maybe because he was suddenly distracted by Kuroo’s side profile as he tipped his head back as he drank, exposing his throat to Daichi.

“Hey.”

“Shit!” Kuroo exclaimed with fright, clutching his chest with his free hand, while Daichi whipped around, startled by the sudden voice.

But... How...?

How had Suga gotten to from the far end corner of the living room, from a conversation with Akaashi, to them to the far end corner of the kitchen in less than a second? Or had Daichi really metaphorically blacked out? Been so immersed in admiring Kuroo from near afar that he’d stopped noticing the passing of time?

“I’m more and more convinced that you’re the reincarnation of Beetlejuice,” Kuroo said, receiving a pleased, soft grin from Suga in response.

“Did you say my name three times?” he asked with amusement.

“No.” Kuroo scoffed, and gestured to Daichi, quite literally pointing a finger at him. “He did.”

Daichi frowned at Kuroo and shook his head a little, wanting to slap the hand pointing at him away, but that would require skin contact with Kuroo and he wasn’t sure if he could survive that. Feeling Kuroo’s hand in his, even if it was just for a fraction of a second –

“Well, I’d gladly take over for Beetlejuice,” Suga said with a happy note in his voice. “He seems like he knows how to have fun.”

“Have you seen the movie?” Daichi turned to Suga, doubtful.

“No,” Suga answered easily. “But his name gets around.”

Kuroo burst into loud and boisterous laughter and moved from Daichi’s side to cling onto Suga, throwing his arm over Suga’s shoulders.

“Are you having fun at my party, Suga?”

“Sure,” Suga grinned, took a moment to assess Kuroo’s hairstyle – Daichi assumed from where Suga’s eyes strayed – and pet the hair.

“Are you still abstaining from alcohol?” Kuroo inquired next, beaming under the attention of Suga’s petting hand, the cause of Daichi’s most recent sting of envy.

“Someone has to stay sober to fight you and I volunteered.” Suga spoke with a happy smile, something that Daichi was a little relieved to see, something so sincere and joyful on Suga was always a sight for sore eyes and very soothing salve on the parts on Daichi that were rubbed raw from worry for his best friend.

“Why would you want to fight me?” Kuroo leaned back a little, looking at Suga with drunk suspicion and letting go off him. “What are we fighting for?” he asked next with a newfound vigor and excitement in his tone, as if he was ready and eager for it.

“Um...” Suga seemed to consider the question, his gaze roaming around the space and ending up meeting Daichi’s eyes. “We’re fighting for Daichi’s love.”

Daichi’s eyes opened wide with surprise. He might’ve considered the fondness in Suga’s voice if he’d bothered to pay more attention to it, but his thoughts were more occupied by the possibility that Kuroo would take Suga up on the invitation for a fight.

“You’re not fighting for my love!”

“Dude, chill,” Kuroo chuckled with his hands raised in a placating manner. “Even if I’m drunk, I’m not stupid enough to fight Suga.” He gave Suga an appraising look. “I’d lose.”

Suga beamed with a genuine smile.

“It doesn’t matter whether you fight or not for me anyway,” Daichi said in an attempt to steer the conversation away from fighting, or any brawl-like activity. “I love you both the same.”

Kuroo cooed at that with a grin that made an interesting oxymoron of his expression – a sly grin and a cute aw, something Daichi had never even considered to see in his lifetime. He was surprised for a second time in under two minutes when Kuroo grabbed his neck to bring him closer and placed a slobby kiss on his cheek.

“I have to go and find Kou before Suga decides to fight me anyway,” Kuroo said as parting words then, leaving flustered Daichi to stare at his own toes with bright red and flaming cheeks.

Daichi took a moment to compose himself, mentally insisting his body to stop warming his cheeks before the blush would travel any further and become any more telling. The party still continued around him, and he was glad that no one didn’t seem to notice his... predicament. And he knew Suga was too kind to make fun of him for getting so flustered from a single, simple, although wet, kiss on his cheeks. Given by his crush, but still.

When he deemed his heart’s beating to be slowed down enough, the nervousness in him subsiding to give room to appear normal, and the blush to have gone less noticeable, he lift his head up with a small sigh. He knew it hadn’t taken him long. The song that had just started when Kuroo decided to show his affection – drunk affection, but still – hadn’t even reached the chorus yet. He’d had practice in dealing with getting flustered from Kuroo, and knew how to get over it quickly and as imperceptibly as possible from outsiders eyes.

He knew Suga would be asking if he was okay once he was over the quick and sudden embarrassment, so he turned to look at his best friend, expecting to see the kind concern and the friendly care in Suga’s smile. But was surprised for the third time when his gaze landed on Suga chucking a can of beer.

“I thought you weren’t going to drink much,” he said with a hushed awe in his voice, a little bit horrified by the sight.

Suga’s eyes trailed to the side to look at him, his head still tipped back as he thirstily swallowed the beer. Daichi was unable to think of what to say, too confused of what was going on. This was so unlike Suga.

“Ugh,” Suga grimaced as he lowered the undoubtedly empty can. “Beer is disgusting.” He looked at the can in his hand with absolute distaste before he discarded it on the counter.

“Why’d you drink it then?” Daichi chuckled with disbelief.

“Felt like I needed it,” Suga shrugged, not meeting Daichi’s eyes. He was still facing the counter, looking at the can as if mind-melting with it, probably thinking of the consequences of emptying it.

Daichi took a searching look around them, wondering if it was safe to ask Suga what was going on without anyone overhearing. His gaze swept the apartment filled with more or less inebriated people more than happy to celebrate Kuroo’s birthday and he saw a pair of eyes looking back, not at him but at Suga’s turned back.

He turned to lean his hip to the counter to address Suga. He needed to make sure that his best friend hadn’t forgotten and gently touched his arm to gain his attention.

“You remember what I told you?”

“Hm?” Suga turned his head to look at him. “Remember what? You’ve told me a lot of things. It would help a lot if you could narrow the field,” he said with a smile, apparently amused by Daichi’s vagueness.

“About Oikawa and not fucking him.”

“Oh,” Suga breathed and his smile fell, but only for a moment before he was nodding with a new, reassuring smile on. “I remember.”

Daichi was relieved and turned to face the living room, to people-watch the party. Everyone seemed to have fun, which was good, but Daichi didn’t feel any particular need to join the fray. He was happy where he was, leaning back to the kitchen counter, with his best friend next to him, standing like him but with arms folded across his chest.

“I shouldn’t have drunk that beer.” Suga spoke with a light groan in his voice and dropped his head sideways to rest on Daichi’s shoulder.

Daichi raised his arm behind Suga and ruffled his hair. “Feeling sick?”

“No, the taste is bothering me.”

Daichi chuckled and let his hand fall from Suga’s hair so his arm was wrapped around his shoulders, his hand limply hanging just off the ball of Suga’s shoulder, fingertips lightly brushing on his bicep.

“Kiss it away from me?” Suga tilted his head and Daichi knew from the angle his cheek was pressed on his shoulder that Suga was looking up at him.

“No way,” he laughed, pushing Suga’s head away from looking at him with his free hand.

“I forgot, only Kuroo is allowed to do that.”

Daichi sobered quickly at that, the laughter dying away as if a small candle put out with a giant bucket of water. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Suga said softly. “I know, Daichi.”

The music and the chatter and laughter of the party filled the companionable silence that fell between them.

“But your cheek is still wet. That was one slimy kiss.”

Daichi burst into laughter again, and this time pushed Suga away by his shoulder. “Shut up,” he might’ve said – it was impossible for even him to tell with all the laughter making it hard to sound out words.

Suga was laughing with him, even harder when Daichi grabbed Suga’s sleeve to dry off the non-existent saliva off of his cheek – a little paranoid that his cheek really was still wet – consequently rubbing off any lingering tingles of the kiss.

“One of these days he’s bound to notice how in love you are with him from how shy you get when he’s explicitly friendly towards you,” Suga said sagely, straightening his shirt over his shoulder when Daichi let go of it.

“He’s too busy with Bokuto and Akaashi to pay that much attention. Or even think that way.” Daichi was sure of it. If it hadn’t happened in five years, it wouldn’t happen at all.

“Daichi,” Iwaizumi crashes into their conversation, probably on his way to grab himself a can of the same beer that Suga had a strong opinion about the taste of – which still seemed to hold true if the slight nose crunch Suga made at the sight of Iwaizumi reaching for a can was any indication. “I saw Inuoka heading towards your room with his girlfriend.”

“Shit,” Daichi swore under his breath. There weren’t locks on the bedroom doors, and even though there was a known rule about rooms and how they weren’t allowed in during the parties, there were always those drunk and horny enough to conveniently ‘forget’ the rule. “I’ll be right back,” he told Suga over his shoulder in his hurry to get to his bedroom before the couple heading that way could have the time to open anyone’s zippers.

He made it in time – saw the door close and a couple of quick strides later he opened it and sternly thanked the two to get the fuck out of his room. At least Inuoka had the decency to look a little guilty, as did his girlfriend, and they promised to leave and find somewhere else to do the do.

“Where’s Suga?” he asked from Iwaizumi as he returned to the much noisier part of the apartment, back to watch the merriment from the sidelines in the kitchen.

“Bathroom,” Iwaizumi said shortly, and sipped his beer.

Daichi nodded and reached for a beer as well. He had a feeling that Inuoka and his girlfriend wouldn’t be the first he’d have to chase out of his room. It was curious how the most people looking to fuck someone always seemed to steer towards his room when there were six other bedrooms as well, six just as comfortable beds, and couple of them were even further from the living room than his was. He was convinced it had something to do with Suga, since it had been Suga’s room when he’d still lived in the apartment. It was the room that got the most light, so Daichi had automatically moved his stuff there when Suga moved out, and coincidentally the next day Iwaizumi had moved in and taken Daichi’s old room.

Anyway.

Speaking of Suga...

“You reminded Oikawa not to fuck Suga?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi answered, hoisting himself to sit on the counter. “He’s keen to learn more about him, though.”

Daichi was instantly alarmed. “How keen?”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “In the general sense of wanting to know more about someone he continuously hears about.” He glanced at Daichi. “Which I’m guessing is a lot around here.”

Yes, as true as Iwaizumi’s statement was that Suga was a common topic of conversation in the apartment since they were all Suga’s friends and cared about him, some key pieces had been left out – intentionally on Daichi’s part but he couldn’t say for sure why it hadn’t come up from anyone else. And yet...

“I haven’t told him what happened,” Daichi admitted. “You think I should?”

“Nah.” Iwaizumi made a face and a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I’m sure he’ll lose interest when he realizes that Suga’s not going to tell him anything.”

“I hope so.”

“And Oikawa seems pretty invested in this fuckbuddy of his,” Iwaizumi continued in his nonchalant voice, slightly scowling at the others.

“Wait, what?” Daichi let out a surprised laugh. “He has a fuckbuddy?”

“He’s been fucking someone ever since he moved here. I give him three more months before he proclaims his love for the guy.”

Daichi laughed, folding in two with his hands on his stomach. “What?!” He straightened up and tried to control his laughter. “You don’t think he can keep it just at strictly banging?”

“That’s not Oikawa.” Iwaizumi shook his head and directed his faint scowl at Daichi. “He’s loyal to a fault, and gets easily attached.” His scowl deepened as he got serious for a second. “And kind of possessive in a jealous way.”

“But didn’t he just break up from someone? Maybe this is just a rebound to him.”

“Maybe,” Iwaizumi shrugged, a smile clearly tugging on the corners of his lips, contradicting the scowl that was slowly smoothing away. “I guess we’ll see.”

“How much have you already bet on this with Makki and Mattsun?” Daichi asked with a knowing grin. He knew that hidden smile.

Iwaizumi stopped biting his smile down and a chuckle got through. “Nothing yet.”

“Yet.” Daichi stressed on the word, and he knew that he and Iwaizumi both knew that it was a _very_ important word to be added there.

They shared a chuckle and Iwaizumi clapped his hand on Daichi’s shoulder to steady himself as he hopped down from the counter.

“How come you didn’t bring anyone?” Daichi was curious of Iwaizumi showing up without a date. Not unheard of, but still unusual.

“I didn’t find any women hanging in trees screaming their lungs out.”

“What?” Daichi laughed.

“That’s how sloths find their mates. A female climbs a tree and screams until a male finds them.” Iwaizumi shrugged after his explanation. “I don’t know, I thought it was a fun way to answer your question.”

“What’s the real reason?” Daichi chuckled.

“Didn’t find anyone.”

“You mean anyone _new?”_ Daichi pressed. Iwaizumi was a notorious serial dater, never settling down with anyone. “Sorry about that.”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “It’s fine. I can go to a party without a date. It’s not going to kill me.”

“And leaves you with options to find someone at the party.” Daichi raised his eyebrows, making his point at Iwaizumi’s wandering gaze.

Iwaizumi shot him a look that seemed to say “You didn’t have to go there, but yeah, you’re right”.

“Have fun.” Daichi pat Iwaizumi’s shoulder with a smile. “But stay away from Moniwa’s girlfriend.” He pointed his finger at Iwaizumi as he walked away from him, after another couple that seemed to straying from the party towards the hallway, towards his bedroom.

“Was that necessary?”  Iwaizumi scowled after him.

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

Oikawa was watching, and trying his best to ignore, and feeling disappointed.

One – well, that should be obvious – Sugawara.

Two – the idiot sitting next to him asking about every song if he’d written it.

Three – Kuroo’s taste in music was just appalling. And apparently stuck on the level of a horny prepubescent boy just finding out what sex is when he’s allowed to watch the shows rated to be unsuitable for anyone under the age thirteen to watch without adult supervision. Oikawa had expected better from him.

“Are you sure you didn’t write this song?”

Oikawa sighed for the umpteenth time, trying his best not to snap at the guy since he seemed to be good friends with his roommates, which was weird since he’d never heard to the guy before. Iwaizumi was silently sniggering next to him, seemingly amused by Oikawa’s annoyance.

“Yes,” he gritted out as politely as he could. He was starting to get more annoyed by Iwaizumi’s apparent amusement about his annoyance than he was about the guy incessantly asking him about the songs.

He focused all of his attention to the guy he’d been fucking that he wasn’t allowed to fuck. If only he’d known that back in March. He couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it, though. The sex was amazing and –

Sorry, correction. _Had been_ amazing, until a couple of weeks ago when Sugawara abruptly stopped replying to his messages. But, all in all, he knew that given the choice of either having fucked Suga or not fucking him, he’d choose the former.

Besides, even though he’d been told _not_ to fuck Suga, didn’t mean they couldn’t continue. He’d just have to get to talk to Suga privately to know where he’s head was at. Maybe Sugawara really had been too busy with work or the like to reply, or had lost his phone, and would like to pick up on their dalliances.

Oikawa made a face at his own thoughts and hid it in taking a sip from his drink. “Dalliance” was far too romantic of a word to describe what he and Suga had done.

The current song was winding to a close; Kuroo was leaving an extravagant kiss on Sawamura’s cheek and walking away soon after and leaving a flushed looking Sawamura behind, Sugawara was chugging a beer, and Oikawa was subconsciously tensing for a question he knew was about to come.

“Did you write this song?”

Oikawa closed his eyes and summoned strength from every entity in the world that would be gracious enough to grant him some. He was debating on whether to smack the guy who couldn’t figure out that his questions weren’t welcomed or Iwaizumi who was snickering into the rapidly emptying can in his hand.

He chose option number three and opened his eyes, looking towards Sawamura and Sugawara, the best friends in the kitchen at the fringe of the party, as if they weren’t a part of the party but still very much in it. Sawamura had his arm on Sugawara’s shoulders, the smaller of the two resting his head on the taller one’s shoulder.

It was... Kind of endearing to see the two. And interesting to say the least to see their interactions.

“Did you?” the annoying guy testing Oikawa’s patience repeated his question when he didn’t get an answer.

“No,” Oikawa sighed, no longer concealing his impatience from his tone. Clearly Iwaizumi couldn’t keep holding onto his scowl of indifference any longer either and burst into laughter.

Oikawa went back on his earlier decision and slapped Iwaizumi’s arm with the back of his hand. Iwaizumi took a sidestep to get away from the abuse, still chuckling.

“Oh, shit,” Iwaizumi suddenly whispered right after and emptied the last of his beer in one long drink. “I should warn Daichi. I’ll be right back.”

Oikawa was lost on what Iwaizumi was talking about and a quick scan of his surroundings didn’t really give him any idea of what would warrant the curse. In the kitchen, where his eyes were drawn like they were magnetized, Sawamura was wiping his face with Sugawara’s sleeve, both of them laughing about something.

“You know, I don’t think I believe that you are a song writer,” the pest still somehow bothering him said.

Oikawa rolled his eyes. Like he cared what the guy thought. He knew he wrote songs, better songs than the bullshit that was abusing everyone’s ears, and that was enough for him.

“Do I look like I care?” he asked, lifting an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Whatever,” the guy shook his head and _finally_ left Oikawa be.

He let his head drop back with a relieved, slightly exaggerated, sigh and righted himself to take a well-deserved and long sip of his drink. His eyes caught Sugawara moving across the open space, easily slipping between the bodies occupying the space like he had a lot of practice about it, towards the hallway that led to the bathrooms.

Oikawa took a new scan around and quickly found Iwaizumi in the kitchen, Sawamura approaching him and engaging him in conversation. Good.

This was his chance, possibly one and only chance, to talk to Sugawara privately.

He took off after Suga, stepping past the people around him almost as smoothly as Sugawara had, trying to be subtle about it not to arouse anyone’s attention of his destination.

The apartment had three bathrooms and Oikawa wasn’t surprised when he found the one in this hallway locked. He leant on the wall across from the door, folding his arms in front of his chest, waiting for the door to open.

It didn’t take long, but the awfully repetitive song sure made the wait feel too long. He was almost absurdly relieved when he heard the distinct sound of the lock.  

“So,” he said slowly with a smug grin when the door opened and Sugawara stopped dead at the doorway, looking at him with surprise. “You’re the notorious Suga.” He looked Sugawara up and down with care, making sure that the man could notice it. He was getting over the surprise fairly quickly, and Oikawa wondered if maybe he’d expected for them to end up talking at some point.

“Notorious?” Suga asked with a grin, looking genuinely amused by the description. “I hope not.”

“Can we talk?” Oikawa asked, quickly dismissing Suga’s light and easy teasing tone.

“I guess it can’t be avoided,” Suga agreed, seemingly not really all that put out, walking backwards back into the bathroom. Oikawa pushed himself off of the wall and hurried after him, making sure to lock the door.

“Did you know who I was?” Oikawa jumped right into it without any easing into it. He had questions that needed answer, and he needed them _now,_ thank you.  

“I swear I didn’t.”

Oikawa scrutinized Suga carefully, taking notes of the sincerity in Suga’s expression and voice, the way he was holding himself close to the sink. “Then why’d you stop replying to my messages? Did you just suddenly decide that you didn’t want to have sex with me anymore? Was it because I accidentally fell asleep and stayed the night?”

Suga shook his head but kept a steady eye contact with him. “It wasn’t because of that.”

“Then why?”

“It doesn’t matter. We can’t fuck anymore.”

“What do you mean “can’t fuck anymore”? Because Sawamura told you not to fuck me? I don’t care about that.”

“But I do.”

Oikawa sighed. It appeared as though Suga had made his mind and it would be really fucking hard to even try and sway it. But then again... If he’d enjoyed the sex, and he was pretty sure that Suga had enjoyed it too...

“Want to think about it?” he asked with a subtle smirk, carefully eye-fucking Suga.

Suga, who seemed to be unaffected by it. It was a new experience for Oikawa with him. Usually it didn’t take more than a flirtatious look or a somewhat suggestive word or two to get Suga to practically rip his clothes off.

“I don’t need to,” Suga said assertively. “We’re not fucking anymore.”

“Okay, well,” Oikawa shrugged to appear nonchalant, to sell that he wasn’t disappointed. He had no idea if Suga bought it. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Sure,” Suga replied so sarcastically Oikawa was sure he’d rival Ushijima’s deadpan deliveries of the phrases “good for you”, “thanks”, “nice to know” and “okay” that always, _always,_ sounded sarcastic. Always.

Suga was already stepping around him and almost out the bathroom when he stopped and looked back at him.

There might’ve been the slightest glimmer of hope in Oikawa that Suga had changed his mind already.

“Hey,” Suga started, Oikawa’s hope still alive. “Could you do me a favor?”

Hope slowly dying away.

“Could you distract Akaashi?”

Hope dead.

Thank you for joining us for the unscheduled broadcast as we followed the harrowing tale of Oikawa’s hope to get some amazing sex that night.

“Why?” he asked, suspicious.

“It’s Akaashi’s phone that’s connected to the speakers and I really need to change the music. I can’t listen to this playlist anymore.”

A sly smirk spread on Oikawa’s lips. “What are you going to put on instead?”

“Something better,” was Suga’s simple reply right before he left the room.

Oikawa quickly followed him back to the living room. “Fine,” he whispered to Suga from right behind him. “But you owe me,” he added as he walked past him, sending a flirty smile over his shoulder at the man.

 

 

 

*

 

 

The party lasted till late early morning hours, the last hardcore partiers – who hadn’t passed out – stumbling home at the same time that normal people would be heading to work. Suga had been one of the last still lingering in the apartment, Oikawa had been glad to notice. Not that he’d taken his eyes off of his fuckbuddy for the entire night. He was sure that Iwaizumi had made a note of his interest, but had luckily escaped from any interrogation on that part.

And hoped not to catch the third degree _ever._

As much as Suga seemed to want to keep their fucking a secret from everyone, so did Oikawa. Now that he knew who he’d been fucking, and knowing that it was forbidden... Well, let’s just say that there was a new level of hotness to it now. Not that the sex hadn’t already been amazing, but now Oikawa was sure that it would be even better.

Too bad that Suga seemed so adamant about not fucking again.

But Oikawa wasn’t ready to give up.

Sawamura was laughing with Suga, which seemed to be par to what Oikawa had witnessed all through the night. But also, it didn’t make any sense.

“The boat was the safest thing in that scary Saw-themed scam of a candy factory,” Suga was saying to the annoyance that had bothered Oikawa earlier with the continuous questions of the songs. “Everyone who got into it made it out safely.”

“How much material did you get from that movie?” Sawamura marveled in a horrified tone.

“Enough for a lifetime, don’t worry.” Suga patted Sawamura’s arm.

“I’m not reassured,” Sawamura deadpanned, causing Suga to laugh, hanging on to Sawamura’s arm.

Whenever, and whoever Suga was with, they seemed to be laughing, or generally having fun. So... Why was everyone so worried about him all the time?

Suga truly was a mystery wrapped up in an enigma hidden in a conspiracy theory. And Oikawa was more determined than ever to find out more about the guy he’d had sex with for the past months, and about the friend of his roommates that continuously worried about him.

Oikawa pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed up a message, adding to the long queue of messages that he wasn’t sure if Suga had even read or had just swiped to the side.

 

_I really enjoyed fucking you, and would gladly continue to do so._

 

Oikawa read his message again, and decided to add on.

 

_No one has to know._

 

He looked at Suga, saw how he took out his phone and looked at the screen for a long enough time to have read the messages. After a moment Suga put his phone back into his pocket and his gaze swept across the apartment until it landed on Oikawa.

He could _feel_ the look, the intensity of it, the way his toes wanted to curl under it.

And he knew.

Suga wasn’t done with him either. He might’ve said “no” now, but Oikawa had a feeling it wouldn’t last. And no one really needed to find out. This could be their secret as long as they wanted it to remain so.

 

 

*

 

_I’m afraid I’m going to do something stupid, something irreversible._

 

 

 


	10. It continued on 190216

 

 

 

The winter was but a thought of past.

Or, so Oikawa thought as he wrote another line for a song.

It had been almost four months to a day since the last time he and Suga had had sex.

And honestly, he was a little surprised that Suga had held onto the “we’re not going to fuck anymore” a lot longer than he’d anticipated.

They’d met here and there, mostly at the shared apartment whenever Suga came to visit Sawamura. It had been friendly, but they still acted like strangers for the most part, keeping their past sex life a secret from everyone.

And yes, before you have to even ask, Oikawa will gladly admit that he kept subtly flirting with Sugawara. He got the stink eye from Sawamura or a warning smack from Iwaizumi when either one of them noticed but he kept laughing it off.

He’d begun to learn little things about Sugawara. Nothing substantial yet, but he could make an educated guess for the reason of everyone’s worry over Sugawara from what he’d heard, or seen.

The biggest thing he’d found out had nothing to do with _who_ Suga was. No, the most shocking revelation to Oikawa had been the dislike Suga had for Kuroo.

He wondered if anyone else had noticed it, or had they just become so used to it that it went by everyone nowadays. He wanted to ask from someone about it, maybe find out _why_ Suga seemed to not like Kuroo as much as he did like the others, but was a little afraid of digging up something ugly, unearthing something that no one had noticed. He didn’t want to draw too much attention to it, and had decided to keep investigating on his own.

Besides, it wasn’t that big of thing, or blatantly apparent. It was subtle, _very_ subtle. And Oikawa was more and more convinced that no one else knew the longer that he kept paying attention.

“Hello Kitty is real,” Suga cut into the meaningless discussion happening in the living room.

He’d arrived earlier, saying he was there to see Sawamura, but Oikawa was dubious about that. For selfish reasons. Maybe he wanted Suga to be there a little for him too.

Kuroo snorted, the derisive “yeah, right” in his eye roll.

“I’ve seen her,” Suga insisted.

Oikawa chuckled silently to himself in the kitchen, a safe distance away from the affectionate petting happening between Kuroo and Bokuto. They had a blanket covering their laps, and Oikawa didn’t trust them not to make use of the cover for a handjob. He’d lived with them for close to a year already, and he really wouldn’t be surprised to be right about the reason for the blanket. Okay, it was winter and a little bit on the colder side, but not inside the apartment, meaning the blanket definitely wasn’t in their laps for the warmth.

He was overanalyzing it now, he knew that. And really needed to move on so he could stop imagining the said sexual act happening.

“Okay, I’m home,” Sawamura hollered as he came in, effectively cutting Oikawa’s thoughts on whatever horrors were done under the guise of the blanket. “What’s the hurry?”

“Oh, hey,” Moniwa’s head snapped up from his work and he got up from where he had spread his materials out on the dinner table. “I’ll go get everyone.”

Oikawa sat up straighter and gently closed his tablet. This sounded like they were about to have another roommate meeting, and from the way the last and only one that Oikawa had been part in had gone, he had high hopes for some absolute hilarity and a complete mess.

“Hey Suga,” Daichi greeted softly and he headed straight over to the couch and fell down in a somewhat sitting position next to his best friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you.”

Oikawa couldn’t see Suga’s expression from where he was, but he could hear the smile in his voice.

“Just date already,” Bokuto chuckled. “You’re cute, but I’m under a threat of getting cavities.”

Right, that.

Oikawa went to get himself something to drink, trying to distract himself from _that._  

Anytime that he saw Suga with Sawamura, the two were exceedingly sweet with one another. And Oikawa hated seeing that. He was almost a hundred percent sure that Suga was putting it on to irritate him, to flaunt his affectionate friendship with Sawamura in front of him, a petty “fuck you” waved in front of his face, like “this is what you can’t have because we’re not fucking each other”. The little bit of percentage, the ‘almost’ that didn’t quite fill up the hundred percent certainty was the fact Oikawa had accumulated enough information about Suga to know that he really wasn’t like that, not one to flaunt anything in front of others, too considerate and nice for it.

The sweet bastard, Oikawa thought bitterly as he downed half of the water in the bottle, suddenly thirsty for something.

No, he wasn’t jealous, or attached to Suga or anything else that Iwaizumi had assumed he would be if he continued the casual sex with his ‘fuckbuddy’. No, no. Not jealous. Just wondering why Sawamura and Suga were so close. Close enough for a random passer-by to think that they were actually dating just from the amount of touching that was happening between them. They were just casual touches, though, a hand on an arm, a ruffle of hair, nudge of an elbow.

“What’s going on, Moniwa?” Kuroo’s voice pulled Oikawa’s attention from his bitter... fine, _jealousy,_ and he turned to see Moniwa return with Ushijima following him.

“And don’t we need Terushima too if you were going to get everybody?” Kuroo continued.

“He told me to fuck off,” Moniwa replied with a tone of sour distaste for the impoliteness. “I can tell him later, it’s fine.”

“Tell him what?” Sawamura asked, pushing himself to sit up straighter on the couch, the movement of his arm, seen from Oikawa’s point of view from behind him, suggesting that he was loosening his tie.

“What’s going on?” Ushijima inquired in the same vein, in a monotonous voice, as he sat down with his back straight and hands clasped on his knees. Ugh, Oikawa hated him. Always proper and lifeless, just unlikeable in every possible way when his attitude seemed so superior when he was so quiet and stone-faced.

“Oikawa? Could you join us here?” Moniwa turned to him.

“Not when I can’t see Kuroo and Bokuto’s hands.”

Everyone’s attention was drawn to the affectionately snuggling couple.

“What?” Kuroo sounded mildly defensive. “We’re not doing anything.”

“Hands above the blanket, please,” Moniwa said with his hands on his hips. “I have important news.”

“Are you moving in with your girlfriend?”

Moniwa whirled on Suga. “How did you know?”

“Wait,” Sawamura moved to the edge of the couch, his posture attentive. “You are?”

Oikawa only paid attention the movement because he noticed Suga’s head turn a little as he must’ve tracked the motion, his eyes seemingly glued to Sawamura’s back. Which... Oikawa would have to think through more carefully later, at a time when he didn’t have a joke at someone’s expense to make.

“Shouldn’t we have Iwaizumi in here for this conversation too? He might have something to say to that,” he said and made his way over to the couch and leaned his hands on the back of it, conveniently placing them behind Suga.

His gaze dipped down, to the top of Suga’s head, to the faint shine in his hair, wanting to run his fingers through it. It was a little weird thought to have, and he quickly corrected it by imagining burying his fingers in the hair to grab and pull a little while ferociously making out with him.

There, already better.  

“Fuck you,” Moniwa stated deadpan, giving a very mild stink eye to Oikawa. “And no. This just concerns everyone who lives here.”

“If you’re moving out, we have to divide the rent again,” Ushijima said, purely business as always.

“Unless we find a new roommate. We could get a couple more too, there are empty rooms.”

“Especially since you and Bokuto are sharing one.”

The conversation happened around Oikawa, or rather in front of him if anyone wanted to get technical of where everyone else was situated in the living room, but he was none the wiser of who was actually talking when he wasn’t paying attention.

His subconscious mind was still feeding him images of making out with Suga, memories transformed into fantasies, to ghost feeling of lips on his, a warm touch of Suga’s hand somewhere, everywhere, on his body, the way they used to travel on his skin, the lingering feeling of them still in his muscle memory.

He was attuned to everything Suga, now that he was properly horny from the reminiscing, he only focused on what was going on when Suga seemed to, or whenever he did something other than sit with his feet on the couch, his knees pulled up and arms loosely wrapped around them. Like when he casually reached to Sawamura and picked up some lint from his shoulder.

“So, was this your news?” Sawamura asked from Moniwa. “That you’re moving out?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, cool. When?”

“Next month.”

“Let us know if you need help with the moving,” Ushijima said, standing up, and somehow movement alone decided that the meeting was over.

It was a lot more phlegmatic than he had expected it would be. Well, maybe next time then.

“Uh, no, don’t do that.”

“Yeah!” Kuroo agreed with Bokuto. “If Ushijima wants to help, he can. But we’re going to be super busy being sick.”

“I’m going to miss you two as well,” Moniwa chuckled. “Anyway, that’s all. Go back to what you were doing.” It was needless for him to say that when everyone had already pretty much moved on.

“So, why are you here really?” Sawamura had turned back to Suga, resting back to the back of the couch again.

“Hey, Oikawa, did I ever tell you about the time that Akaashi’s roommate swallowed a party hooter?” Bokuto asked, but Oikawa really wasn’t listening to him.

“I can’t come and see my best friend?” Suga replied to Daichi, his tone somehow soft but playful. This Suga was so different from the  Suga Oikawa had met for the first time last April, so different from the man he’d slept with on multiple occasions. And would love to sleep with again.

You know, just throwing that out into the universe.

“You can,” Sawamura assured. “Just wondering why you’re here before me on a workday. Bad day?”

“No,” Suga answered after he gave it some thought, and Oikawa couldn’t help but wonder why that was. Was there basis for the concern that everyone had for Suga whenever the man wasn’t in the room.

“He was making this hilarious hooting noise with every breath,” Bokuto was laughing now, in middle of his story, oblivious to the fact that Oikawa wasn’t really listening to a word of it.

“It was awesome,” Kuroo was echoing, chuckling with a grin.

Somewhere in the background Moniwa was rattling with his papers.

“I’m going to change out of this suit and we can go eat then,” Sawamura was speaking to Suga.

But all Oikawa saw was the way Suga was exclusively paying attention to Sawamura. It hurt a bit, to be honest. It was like he was air to Suga whenever Sawamura was in the room.

He knew why that was, but it didn’t mean that he had to like it. He watched out of the corner of his eye Sawamura get up and disappear to the hallway, at the same time aware of Suga moving to the opposite direction, to the bathroom.

Oikawa chuckled half-heartedly to feign interest in the story of the moron who had swallowed a party hooter and had almost choked and died when he thought it was more hilarious than dangerous and had left the damn plastic death-machine inside his throat for a night.

Since, yeah, it was a fucking funny thought that someone would actually audibly hoot and wheeze with every breath, but the story had someone almost dying, so Oikawa felt only a little bit bad about the laughing. But the guy apparently was fine now, or so Oikawa assumed when Bokuto or Kuroo didn’t say anything to the contrary, so maybe it was okay to laugh, a little, when they were laughing too.

When he deemed his half-assed act of paying polite attention when he was being spoken to successful, when Bokuto and Kuroo snuggled under the blanket again, he followed after Suga only a short moment after the man had left the living area.

“This can’t become a thing,” Suga said, most likely when he heard the footsteps following after him, glancing over his shoulder to see who it was, and stopping with arms crossed over his chest.

“What?” Oikawa looked around, feigning innocence of what Suga could possibly mean.

“You, following me to the bathroom.”

“I needed to pee,” Oikawa explained, a borderline lie since he didn’t _need_ to pee, but he could. And technically Suga was right about the following becoming thing – this wasn’t the first time. “But while I have you here –“

“No, we’re not fucking,” Suga chuckled like it was a ridiculous idea to him, continuing to walk away.

“Can I ask you something, though,” Oikawa asked when Suga stepped inside the bathroom. “If Sawamura hadn’t told you not to have sex with me, would you?”

Suga’s smile was gone, replaced by a calculative expression when he turned to look at him again.

Oikawa took advantage of the thoughtful silence and passed Suga to lean back to the sink, to wait for Suga’s answer.

When the man sighed, he straightened up a little, folding his arms in front of his chest.

“Here’s the thing,” Suga closed the door and took a step closer to Oikawa. “I like anonymous sex. I never learn the names of people I have sex with and I never tell them my name.”

“Is that why you always asked me what name I had your number saved as?”

“I know my name’s on the tenant board. I was curious if you’d noticed it.”

Oikawa smirked. “Took me a while, but yeah, I did.”

Suga nodded a little, as if agreeing that he’d figured as much. “And then you started to notice more about your surroundings in my apartment. When you asked if I work with music, I was ready to block your number.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No,” Suga confirmed. “But I should have.”

Oikawa took a slow sideways step closer to Suga. “Why didn’t you?”

“I forgot.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He didn’t believe Suga on that. “Right,” he said slowly, processing Suga’s answer, trying to think back to that night and how he had seemed after it.

“Then you asked if I was a music producer, and that was too much information for you to have.”

“So you stopped replying to my messages.”

“I didn’t think you’d take it personally.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t take it personally that after six months of sex you stopped replying,” Oikawa stressed as sarcastically as he could. He knew he sounded hurt about the whole thing, but he hadn’t realized how hurt he actually had been. Not until Suga was so cavalier about the whole thing, like he was insignificant.

“I’m sorry,” Suga said, so sincere in his tone and look that Oikawa had to believe he meant it. Maybe he wasn’t so significant after all. “I’m not used to sleeping with people that I end up knowing.”

“I got that from the ‘anonymous sex’.” Oikawa rolled his eyes.

“If it makes you feel any better, if Daichi hadn’t told me not to fuck you, I probably would’ve called you about a month ago.”

Oikawa scoffed. “It –“

“Oh,” Bokuto walked in on their conversation, bursting in through the door. “What are you both doing here?”

“Oikawa didn’t believe that Kuroo had written his number on the wall.” Suga pointed to the toilet, to the line of digits written there, coming up with the lie remarkably fast, prompting Oikawa to wonder if he’d had to use the same lie before, or if it thought of it beforehand in case something like this happened.

Bokuto snorted. “I don’t know what he was thinking with that since he lives here and everyone here already has his number. But I have to pee, so...”

“Yeah, sorry,” Suga stepped out of the bathroom immediately, and Oikawa couldn’t help but feel that he just wanted out of the conversation as soon as possible now that he had the chance to.

Oikawa felt as unresolved about everything as he had before the impromptu conversation in the bathroom of all places, the sexual tension between him and Suga still there when they both acknowledged it without saying a word about it.

It was promising to know that Suga would’ve contacted him if Sawamura hadn’t told him not to fuck with Oikawa. Maybe there still was a chance for them to pick up the occasional sex now and then. Maybe.

Hopefully, Oikawa sighed as he watched Suga and Sawamura laugh about something as they left.

Not to feel the nasty longing, giving him a want to go with them, to spend more time with Suga even if Sawamura would be there too, he closed himself in his bedroom, making use of the fantasies he’d conjured up earlier.

 

 

*

 

 

“Want to fuck?” Oikawa leaned close to Suga’s to whisper as inconspicuously as possible so no one would notice.

It was yet another day, yet another time that Suga had popped in to visit his best friend, or so he claimed. And it was yet another chance for Oikawa to flirt with him, to try and scratch at the itch under his skin at the inconveniently placed spot on his body that twitched with every smutty thought he had of Suga.

Suga stopped in middle of twisting the cork on the bottle open. “Yes,” he whispered back and glanced sideways at Oikawa, briefly meeting his eye. “But not with you.”

Oikawa smirked. “Are you sure?” He moved purposefully close to Suga so he brushed up on him as he moved to the fridge. “I can still hear your moans when I go to sleep,” he said in passing.

The light chatter in the living room filled the silence that fell between them in the kitchen.

“Why would you bring that up? What is the point?”

Oikawa turned to look at Suga with a smug grin, leaning back to the counter with the popsicle to put his tall body on display. “Just saying,” he shrugged with nonchalance as he opened the wrapper. “The sex was really good.” He looked to Suga from under his brows. “Are you sure you don’t want to do it again.”

“I can have great sex whenever I want,” Suga said, stepping closer. “I wasn’t exclusively fucking just you,” he lowered his voice.

“But were any of the other guys as good as me?” Oikawa asked back, confident in his abilities to satisfy in bed.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Suga whispered. “Besides, I can’t be the only one for you to pester about sex. You’re handsome, I’m sure you could get just about anyone.”

Oikawa was a little disturbed that Suga would call it ‘pestering’, but he hid it behind a smirk. “But I like the challenge,” he whispered back, walking away when Iwaizumi was calling for him, conveniently for him to make a cool exit.

He wished he could glance behind him, to check if Suga was looking after him, but he didn’t want to, for fear of Suga catching him doing so. Although –

He took a quick peek over his shoulder and...

Was disappointed. Suga’s focus was back on the food he was sharing into the bowls, but there was a tense line in the set of his shoulders that hadn’t been there earlier. Oikawa turned back after his quick, barely a second long glance, with a satisfied quirk in his smile. He’d gotten to Suga, good. It was a step to the right direction – to them restarting the fucking.

He just hoped that it wouldn’t take too long. He hadn’t been lying when he’d thought that the sex was good, great even, possibly the best sex he’d ever had. He only had one person to compare Suga to, but he was confident that given time and getting to each other better, whatever casual sex relationship he had with Suga could be the absolute best sex he’d ever have with anybody.

 

 

*

 

 

“Didn’t you say that Oikawa had a fuckbuddy?” Daichi asked casually, out of nowhere, but Iwaizumi didn’t want to overanalyze why Daichi had thought to ask about in middle of the game.

“Yeah. What of it?” he replied, the suspicion of how Daichi’s mind made the links from the serve, of the ball going back and forth over the net, to Oikawa’s sex life in his tone.

“I just remembered him saying in late fall that some guy he’d been seeing was blowing him off.”

“Oh?” Iwaizumi turned his head to look at Oikawa, silently conversing with Suga, and he had to admit it worried him a bit. “Weird that he hasn’t said anything about it to me.” That was months ago. It was already late February.

“Maybe he’s just embarrassed?”

“That would make sense. And he probably wouldn’t want to hear me say ‘I told you so’.” Iwaizumi shrugged, tuning back to the game, but keeping his antenna up for whatever might be happening in the kitchen as well.

“That’s definitely the reason.”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at Daichi, unimpressed beyond any facial expression. “Are you calling me judgmental? Hello pot, my name is kettle.”

Daichi exhaled in a form of a weak chuckle. He didn’t really have anything to say back to that to refute it.

In his periphery, Iwaizumi saw Oikawa lean in close to Suga, too close.

“Oikawa,” he called for him, to pull him from flirting with Suga. If there was a way for him to prevent his best friend going through heartbreak again, one he could see coming from far away, he would do anything to do so.

“What’s up?” Oikawa asked with that charming, disarming grin of his and sat down as leisurely as anyone without any trouble in the world weighing on them would.

Iwaizumi knew it was fake, but he wasn’t sure why Oikawa would put up that over-confident front.

“Stop flirting with Suga,” he said sternly. The man in question was still in the kitchen, getting them all some snacks, something to eat. Honestly, he was unbelievably at times – one mention of someone, or most namely Daichi, being hungry and he would be cooking.

“It’s not going to lead to anything,” Oikawa defended with a lofty hand gesture, as if waving the worries away, worrying and irritating Iwaizumi with how nonchalant he could be about it.

“You don’t know that.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to flirt with Suga only to end up in bed with him,” Daichi muttered, scratching something on the thigh of his jeans.

Oikawa’s brow furrowed. “You should give him more credit. I’ve been flirting with him for months and it hasn’t led to anything. Or, maybe you’re giving me too much credit to think that Suga would be powerless against my charms,” he dared to grin. “And I’m flattered that you think so highly of me.”

“Just don’t fuck him,” Iwaizumi warned.

“Stop worrying about it,” Oikawa reassured, casting a look towards the kitchen. There was something in his look, something that Iwaizumi wasn’t quite able to identify, but he didn’t like the look either. It was, for the lack of a better word, dangerous.

Oikawa might’ve been just flirting with Suga, but there was something driving him _to_ flirt. What would have him after Suga’s ass so relentlessly, if Suga kept denying his advances?

“Here you go.” Suga was back, arms full of food, carefully setting everything down on the table, a bowl after bowl, every dish accompanied by the soft clink when they met the surface of the table.

“Thanks, Suga,” Daichi beamed at him, scooting closer to the food. “I don’t know what I would do if we hadn’t met.”

“Probably get your food on your own,” Suga replied, his smile warm and impish.

“How did you two meet?” Oikawa was asking, reaching for the food as well, and Iwaizumi followed right after him. It might’ve been Daichi who’d _said_ he was hungry, but everyone else was just as eager to eat.

“In university,” Daichi answered, sitting down with his legs crossed. “We were roommates the first year. The second year, best friends already, we both moved here.”

“Wait, here?” Oikawa adapted the look of pique interest, his back straightening to almost absurd proportions. “You lived here too?” he aimed the question to Suga.

“Until graduation,” Suga confirmed without looking up from the food he was picking with the chopsticks.

“And then what? You got a job and moved to live on your own?”

“Something like that,” Suga murmured, shifting in his seat.

 

 

*

 

 

Oikawa caught onto the restless, anxious shift, and pondered on it, trying to decipher Suga’s tone as he munched on the food.

“I guess you make good money right out the first paycheck when you’re a producer at a big company.”

“I actually started as a sound engineer,” Suga corrected. “Kind of. I was interning, helping out the sound engineer of a band when I was still studying when they toured. One day I was tinkering around with one the band’s songs on my own time, my supervisor heard the remix and sent it to higher ups. And another day I was given a raw demo to work with, to see what I would make of it. When I handed the finished product in, they offered me a job as a music producer.”

Oikawa glanced at Sawamura when he noticed from his peripheral the man shift as well, as if he was uncomfortable with what Suga said. And he couldn’t help but think that Suga was leaving something out, something important, or at least glossing over a big plot twist.

Oikawa was going to find out what the little tidbit could be, like a hawk after it’s prey.

“You actually studied sound engineering?”

“And graduated,” Sawamura confirmed with a proud voice, the awkward shifting gone as if it had never been there in the first place.

Oikawa glanced at Iwaizumi next, and saw the same averted gaze.

Something was most _definitely_ left out of Suga’s story.

 

 

*

 

Later, much later, when Suga had already left after a text message he’d received, one that had Sawamura raise his eyebrows in silent question and Suga smile back like that was a sufficient answer... And Oikawa had hated that he could guess, and get it right on the first guess, what the message was about.

He had been disappointed, a little hurt, and wrote it all down for a song, or an attempt at one. Who knows if it’d ever become a finished piece. But that was irrelevant now that he found Iwaizumi alone in the kitchen. Oikawa leaned his arms on the table, getting a little closer to Iwaizumi, sat across from him, swiping and typing on his phone.

“So,” he started in a casual manner but his voice a little lowered so it wouldn’t travel to ears he didn’t want to hear what they were talking about. He was aware that Sawamura wasn’t far away, only at the bathroom and going to come back any second, while Bokuto was in Kuroo’s bedroom, having ducked in there earlier with Akaashi.

But they didn’t matter. No one else did, not when Oikawa was hyper focused to get some answers.

Iwaizumi raised his eyebrow in acknowledgement that he was listening, his outward appearance otherwise still seemingly focused on swiping left and right on Tinder.

“What _didn’t_ Suga say?”

Iwaizumi glanced up, and then dropped his gaze back down. “That he tried to kill himself before he tinkered on the song.”

Oikawa balked.

This...

Was not what he’d expected.

He’d expected a sordid love affair, or maybe a big fight with his family, maybe them disowning him.

This was...

Way more serious.

And Oikawa got it, the worry in everyone’s tone when they talked about Suga when he wasn’t there. The concern in Sawamura’s actions when it came to his best friend. Suga had probably picked up on it, and put up the front of happiness so no one would see that he wasn’t.

“He made the remix when he was getting back on his feet. It’s a really good one, you should listen to it, even though you don’t like the EDM stuff. But it’s got a really sad melody to it.” Iwaizumi trailed off and finished with a shrug. “You might dig it.”

“I might dig it?” Oikawa parroted the words with a slight sneer, his face twisting with it before schooled back to nonchalance. “So that’s why everyone’s so worried about him? He’s suicidal?”

Iwaizumi locked his phone and put it in his pocket. “I don’t think he’s suicidal anymore.”

“He’s plenty sad though.”

Iwaizumi’s frown deepened. “When have you seen him sad? He’s nothing but smiles whenever I see him here.” He said it like an impossibility, and if it was possible for Oikawa to have seen Suga sad, when, where, why and how?

Oikawa feigned nonchalance, leaning back in the chair, like he was bored of the conversation now. “Just, microexpressions, you know?”

Iwaizumi hummed shortly, as if in deep thought. “Well, it would make sense for him to still be sad. But I really don’t think he’s suicidal anymore.”

 “What happened, then? Why did he try?”

“It’s a long story,” Iwaizumi said with a shake of his head.

“You always say it’s a long story, but you never tell me more.” Oikawa rolled his eyes, a slight whine in his voice.

Iwaizumi’s eyes flicked somewhere behind Oikawa’s head as they heard voices coming closer, probably walking down the hallway towards the common space. Sawamura was back.

“Later,” Iwaizumi said, leaving Oikawa to wonder if the ‘later’ would ever actually come.

 

 


	11. 030316

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for slutshaming. Kind of. (Does it need a tw? I'm not sure. But it's there. Do with it what you will.)  
> It's not explicit, just a quick mention really. And the reaction to it is just bafflement... So... *shrug* Like I said, read or don't read with precaution.  
> (When Kuroo is reading texts, after “Do you have a selfie in here that I can send so I can prove I’m you?”. It's over at “I’m sorry, Suga, but I’ve never known you to decline anyone who expressed their desire to fuck you.” )
> 
> By the way, just a shout out to everyone who has left kudos or comments or both! You. Are. Amazing. And I love you! Thank you so much <3

 

 

Kuroo had just got settled comfortably on the couch, enjoying his rare day off, when the front door opened.

“Hey Suga,” he greeted the ash blonde man who was really shit at hiding his emotions, but Kuroo liked to indulge him in ‘believing’ that he wasn’t as sad as he looked.

“Hey,” Suga greeted back, looking around. “Where’s Daichi?”

_Figures,_ Kuroo thought with amusement. Of course Suga only came over to see his best friend.

“In his room, enjoying a five knuckle shuffle.” Kuroo made a crude gesture with his hand, imitating the motion of jerking off while Suga fell to sit and then lay down on the couch.

“Why do you call it that?” Suga tilted his head to look up to him from his diagonal position, his face etched with confused disgust.

“Because that’s what it is.”

“There’s something wrong with you.” Suga turned his head back to look at the tv, and Kuroo waited with baited breath for what was about to happen next.

“And you’re watching porn in the living room,” Suga predictably stated, with a hint of exasperation intermixed with incredulity. Kuroo was almost jealous of his ability to project both feelings at the same time.

“And it’s straight porn. Something definitely went wrong when you were growing up.”

“This is the most boring thing I’ve ever seen,” Kuroo commented, unaffected by Suga’s statement, casually sipping his beer, watching the caveman –like grunting and the high-pitched moans with placid interest.

“Does any porn even do it for you anymore? From what I’ve heard, you’ve watched so much you can’t get hard from it anymore.”

“Bullshit,” Kuroo scoffed, moving as little as possible to reach across the space between him and Suga to smack at his arm.

Suga laughed and smacked Kuroo right back on his thigh. It was light, barely noticeable, but it was camaraderie and Kuroo was smiling when he moved his focus back to the tv, to the shitty angle not showing any of the good stuff.

“Ugh,” Kuroo made a face of disgust. “Who would ever want to stick anything into a pussy?” he asked with a little bit of horror of even baring to imagine doing something like that.

“You’re asking the wrong man,” Suga stated and sighed. “You’re right, though. This is really boring.”

Kuroo hummed in acknowledgement, glad to have his opinion shared.

“Oh,” Daichi’s voice drew their attention. “Hey Suga.”

He hadn’t expected Suga to come over and was pleasantly surprised.

Suga smiled back at him from his peculiar position on the couch. Daichi didn’t even know how to prescribe how he was sitting and lying down at the same time, twisted like that, like he didn’t have a backbone.

“Hm, I was sure he’d gone blind in there,” Kuroo teased, snickering to himself, into the can in his hand before he took a sip.

Daichi ignored Kuroo, not really sure what he even meant by that. But the smile Kuroo shot at him was nice, so Daichi really wasn’t too preoccupied with what he was saying. Which was dangerous.

It was dangerous to just stare at Kuroo, to admire him, although from afar, and he returned his focus to his best friend, to the television when the sounds he heard pulled it there, only to take a double take of the incredulous kind.

“Why are you watching porn with Kuroo?”

“Because I’m bored,” Suga replied, somewhat transfixed on the screen, to the naked grunting and obviously fake moaning. “What have you been up to?” he tore his eyes from the scene, meeting Daichi’s gaze when he did the same.

“Work,” he answered, a little distractedly, his gaze back on the tv screen.

Suga snorted, drawing Daichi’s attention back, albeit belatedly. “Does this do it for you?” he asked with laughter, gesturing at the porn with his hand.

“Oh, yeah, does it?” Kuroo hopped on the bandwagon of teasing, tilting his head back the same way that Suga had, their grins almost matching –Suga’s softer while Kuroo’s was nothing but pure tease.

“Fuck off,” Daichi scoffed as he went to sit down as well, in the strategic place between Kuroo and Suga. “Of course not.”

Kuroo’s chuckles, and whatever Suga was about to say to that, were drowned under Oikawa’s loud, slightly high-pitched exclamation.

“Suga-chan! Here to see me again?”

“No, you’re seeing things,” Suga replied deadpan.

“Great,” Oikawa decided. “Then this spot is free,” he proclaimed and promptly sat in Suga’s lap.

“Get off of me, Oikawa,” Suga laughed, unsuccessfully trying to push the man off of him.

Oikawa’s flirting had taken a brave step forward, getting touchier and, one might even say, riskier. Suga always responded like he was more amused by it than actually interested in reciprocating. Daichi still didn’t approve, and was a little worried that one day Suga might be interested, and act on it.

“I think there’s something wrong with the couch,” Oikawa spoke conversationally, directing his words to Daichi and Kuroo. “It’s gone lumpy.”

“Oikawa!” Suga kept laughing, growing breathless.

“Get off of Suga, Oikawa,” Daichi admonished, and to his subtle relief, Oikawa did move, plopping down next to Suga.

“Well, hello there,” he smirked at Suga, throwing in a wink that had Daichi roll his eyes and share a look with Kuroo.

“Why are you watching porn?” Oikawa asked then, right after an extremely loud, and fake, moan that must’ve caught his attention.

“Because we’re bored.”

“Hmm, four guys watching straight porn and zero boners in sight,” Oikawa mused. “I have to admit that the guy is kind of hot though.”

“I know, look at those muscles. Almost rivals Daichi’s,” Kuroo agreed.

Daichi cleared his throat, suddenly growing hot under his collar.

“I’ve seen better,” Suga put his two cents in.

“Yeah, I bet you have.”

Daichi heard the smack, and knew that Suga had hit Kuroo for his sleazy comment. Even if Kuroo wasn’t wrong, he deserved the light slap to wherever it had landed.

“I hear sex sounds!” Bokuto proclaimed loudly as he sauntered in, closing the door after him with a little too much force.

Daichi winced at the bang, and noted that the number of people who’d be stuck in front of the television watching porn was not up to five.

“I thought there was a rule about that.”

“It only applies to you three,” Daichi replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest, still engrossed in the porn, even though it wasn’t doing anything to him. “And Kuroo’s watching straight porn.”

“Ew, what is wrong with you?” Bokuto asked as he sat next to Kuroo, snuggling up to him, Daichi was jealous to note, seeing the two of them from his periphery.

“You smell of food,” Kuroo observed.

Daichi hated that he could hear the subtle, but loud, sniff that followed.

“I was at work. Of course I smell of food,” Bokuto chuckled. “But explain: Why are you watching straight porn.”

“The guy’s hot,” Kuroo defended, accepting a kiss on his cheek from Bokuto.

Daichi focused his gaze on the two strangers fucking so he wouldn’t have to see the two get all lovey-dovey.

“I mean,” Kuroo continued his commentary, “I’m a bit jelly of his six-pack.” He lifted his shirt to compare, and Daichi was not focusing well enough of the porn not to notice the bared stomach, the muscles that had his mouth drying and tongue salivating at the same time, his insides turning and heart skipping a beat and doubling up on the rhythm to catch up on the missed one.

“Put your shirt down, Kuroo,” Oikawa gestured at the bared abs, annoyed. “No one wants to see that.” No matter how toned they were.

“You have something against eye-candy?” Kuroo cocked his eyebrow.

“Put it away,” Daichi said as well, getting up from the couch. He couldn’t unsee the faint washboard, even if it was covered under a shirt again, and he had to walk away to a safe distance, somewhere where he couldn’t see Kuroo. Kitchen would suffice, he decided. “You’re making Suga horny.”

“Excuse me? I think I have better class than Kuroo Tetsurou,” Suga protested aghast.

“What class?” Kuroo questioned. “You’re a literal man-whore.”

“I don’t just fuck anything that walks with two legs.”

“Are you sure?” Kuroo smirked. “You should have a tramp stamp that says ‘unlimited rides’.”

Oikawa was certain that Kuroo got that off the internet somewhere. There was no way he was that witty on his own. The short back and forth between Suga and Kuroo, though... Just another proof to him that Suga was not as fond of Kuroo as he let others think he was. And he was still amazed and a little bit baffled that no one else had noticed it.

Suga was silent after Kuroo’s comment, and it went on and on, for an unnervingly long time.

Oikawa wasn’t sure why that no one broke it, if they were all just on the edge of their seat waiting for Suga’s response, or too mesmerized by the porn.

“Fuck you, Kuroo.”

Oikawa had to admit, he had expected a better comeback from Suga, but maybe Kuroo had hit a nerve.

“I am in a committed relationship, but thank you for the offer.”

“Sorry, wrong word choice,” Suga said, as though honestly sorry about it, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe he’d misspoken. “Fuck off.”

“Original. You should write songs for your living.”

“I don’t.”

“I know.”

Seriously?

Oikawa couldn’t believe that no one else had noticed this before. Suga was subtly hostile towards Kuroo, his words just on this side of biting to pass detection, maybe, but Oikawa still couldn’t believe that even his best friend hadn’t noticed it with the large amount of time the two spend together.

“Okay, how about you two cool off,” Daichi cut in the middle of the squabble, trying in his way to calm the situation down.

“Yeah, babe, calm down,” Bokuto agreed.

Oikawa felt how Suga took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as close to each other as they were sitting it was easily noticeable.

“Hey,” Bokuto continued with excitement that seemingly came out of nowhere. “Maybe Suga could write songs with Oikawa.”

Oikawa’s face went through multiple expressions, showing what he thought about that – first he pursed his lips, then furrowed his brow and finally pressed his mouth in thin line to curb his initial reaction.

“Not to say no,” he said, slowly sounding every word.

“That sounds like a ‘no’,” Sawamura interrupted from somewhere behind them, where he must’ve sought refuge from Kuroo’s slight exhibitionism.

And he was right.

“- But I’m going to say no,” Oikawa finished.

“Why?” Bokuto looked so sincerely interested to know that Oikawa couldn’t keep from answering.

He sat up a little, withdrawing from Suga, who’d gone eerily silent next to him after Daichi had called for a truce between him and Kuroo.

“I used to write with my ex,” Oikawa answered to Bokuto’s question, scratching at his arm in unease, in the anxiousness that the subject brought up for him. “I don’t...” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, keeping emotions tightly locked inside him. “I don’t want to write with anyone ever again.”

“You know, you never told us the story of what happened, why you broke up,” Bokuto said, looking perked, his eyes wide and round, his posture still laid back, and Kuroo pressing his face to his neck.

Oikawa plucked at a stray string poking out of the cushion under him, avoiding everyone’s gazes. “It’s a long story.”

“So? We have time.”

 

 

*

 

 

Oikawa was waiting in front of the restaurant, anxiously checking the time on his wrist watch, looking both ways of the street.

His boyfriend, who shall remain unnamed and will only be referred to as ‘the Asshole’ for the story, wasn’t exactly late. Oikawa had gotten there early, excited and full of jitters, nervous about his plans and turning him unable to sit at home. But, the Asshole was always early, everywhere, and the fact that it was already three minutes until they’d agreed to meet, made Oikawa worry.

The sound of stomping, running steps had him turn towards them, and to his relief, he saw the Asshole jog down the street, the lapels of his jacket flapping in the wind.

A smile came upon Oikawa’s face when he recognized the familiar face, when he realized that the Asshole was on time for their very special date.

Only Oikawa knew how special it was going to be and he tried to suppress the nervous excitement from his smile when the Asshole stopped in front of him – he knew he’d see right through it, and he wanted everything to remain a surprise until the very end.

“Hey,” he greeted his boyfriend, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Hey,” the Asshole smiled back, but quickly looking away, as if he was shy. Which he always was when they were out in public. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re not late. You’re actually right on time, for once.”

The Asshole chuckled. “I missed the earlier train,” he explained. 

“How did the meeting go with the exec?” The very reason why they’d agreed to meet at the restaurant, rather than going together, had been the sudden call for a meeting. Long time ago, they’d decided that Oikawa wouldn’t have to deal with the producers, or the executives who made the decisions about the songs, who turned their songs into shit. He just didn’t get along with them like the Asshole did.

“It was fine,” the Asshole waved his hand, motioning the concern away, and turned his head to look behind them, at the restaurant. “Remember the first time we ate here? Six years ago, right? When we had sold our first song and were able to splurge?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa admitted, fond of the memories, of seven years of happiness with this man he loved more than anything. “Come on, let’s go.” He went to open the door, to hold it open for his boyfriend and followed him to the host’s booth.

They were led to a table in the back, in the quieter part of it, where the atmosphere was not just quaint but perfect for the romance.

Oikawa ordered a bottle of the much too overpriced bubbly, and they sipped it in calm silence as they waited for their food. It was lovely, and Oikawa couldn’t keep from admiring his boyfriend, how handsome he looked, how adorably shy even when no one was paying them any attention.

Once the food was in front of them, their tongues were loosened enough to make small, comfortable conversation, looking back on lovely memories, laughing at this and that, none of which was important in the future.

When the waiter cleared their plates, Oikawa knew it was time. He knew the Asshole loved cake. It had been a no brainer to order one in advance. A good proposal needed cake. He’d set it up with the restaurant staff in advance, and knew that the chocolate-y dream would soon be carried onto their table, with sparkles on top of it because he also knew how much the Asshole loved those.

He took a deep breath, now more ready than ever before, and placed his hand gently on top of the Assholes on the table.

Their eyes met over the table.

“I love you,” Oikawa said softly, his right hand tender on his boyfriend’s, and left in his pocket to retrieve the small box, his gaze fond and so filled with love.

“You have chlamydia.”

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

It was choked out, as if the Asshole tremendous trouble getting the words out, and Oikawa couldn’t really tell what was said. Or, rather more properly, he hoped he’d heard wrong.

The waiter was at their table now too, holding the cake with the sparkles sparkling, a smile on his face that felt _so_ inappropriate right now.

“Excuse me?” Oikawa had to ask. He had to have heard incorrectly. There was no way –

“You have chlamydia,” the Asshole repeated.

The waiter froze by their table in middle of putting the cake down on their table, Oikawa stopped breathing, and the Asshole couldn’t look him in his eyes.

The silence continued, the atmosphere turning uncomfortable, no one was even flinching or making the smallest movement.

“Um...” the waiter said in a low voice, and cleared his throat.

“Just put the fucking cake down,” Oikawa snapped, his gaze glued onto who would soon be his ex-boyfriend if what he was suspecting was true.

The waiter promptly set the cake down and scurried off like he couldn’t wait to be just about anywhere else.

Oikawa wished he could do the same. He wanted to walk away from the conversation he was about to have with the Asshole.

It’s a pretty apt name now, wouldn’t you think?

Oikawa exhaled sharply and pulled his hand from his pocket, putting the box on the table in front of him. He drew his right hand away from the Asshole’s , slowly, belatedly realizing he was still touching him. He ran his hands down over his face, trying to collect his thoughts, to make sense of them.

“I have chlamydia?” he asked when he was able to look at the Asshole again, noting that his gaze was down on the velvet box. “How can you possibly know that I have chlamydia?”

_He_ had only ever had sex with the Asshole, and they always, _always,_ used a condom. There was no way he’d have been infected, unless... Unless the Asshole had had sex with someone else, had cheated on him and then infected him.

“Because I had it,” the Asshole clarified, more or less confirming Oikawa’s betrayed thoughts.

“And how did you get it?”

The Asshole was looking everywhere but at him.

“Did you cheat on me?” Oikawa prompted, asking directly, horrified that he already knew the answer.

What was weird, though, was that he wasn’t really feeling anything. He should be angry, right? Enraged, betrayed, hurt. But none of it was there. He felt... Numb. And yet his eyes were warm under the threat of tears.

“It was only once,” the Asshole whispered.

Well, at least he had the decency to appear ashamed.

“I tried to treat it without you finding out.”

_What?_

_How?_

“But you stopped drinking the protein smoothies in the morning where I’d slipped the antibiotics in-“

“You tried to drug me?”

“I tried to cure you,” the Asshole hastily defended himself.

Oikawa was all of a sudden _livid._ He was _beyond_ hurt. The fact that his boyfriend had cheated on him really setting in, his mind playing the thought over and over again. It wasn’t just the cheating that hurt him, but knowing that he had been passed a STD on, and without his knowledge, the person he loved the most in the world, had tried to feed him antibiotics to take care of it so he wouldn’t be caught about the cheating.

“And I didn’t know how to tell you, how to fix it, so...”

“Well, you told me now,” Oikawa stated in a low voice, his eyes growing hot with the threat of tears.

“I’m sorry, Tooru. I – I don’t know what to do, or say. I’m so sorry.”

Oikawa dropped his gaze to the little velvet covered box on the table. It seemed mocking now, and Oikawa looked at it with contempt, like it was the root of their problems, of his heartbreak.

“I’m so, so sorry, Tooru,” the Asshole said, his tone begging for forgiveness, his hand reaching across the growing space between them to hold Oikawa's hand.

Oikawa pulled his hand away from the touch as if it had burned him, stung him, like it had been a hit on a nerve. He closed his eyes and wished for the ability to close his ears too. He didn’t want to hear the apologies. He didn't want to see the kicked puppy left out in the rain -look.

_Oh no,_ he thought with renewed mortification. If he hadn’t had the whole cure of the antibiotics, it meant that he still had the chlamydia. The disease that the cheating had brought was still in him. He felt disgusted, nauseous. He wanted to leave. Right now.

He couldn’t just sit here anymore. Not with the cake with blackened sparkles that had gone out a long time ago, like a sad non-functioning party-wheezer that made the motion of rolling open without the usual hoot that accompanied it.

He couldn’t look at his boyfriend. Sorry, _ex-_ boyfriend. Not anymore.

He did want to shout, to chew the Asshole’s head off for hurting him. But he wasn’t sure if the scene it would create would be worth it.

And to think, the Asshole, the worst human being in the world, had had a fling, and hidden it and the chlamydia he’d caught and passed onto his boyfriend, had secretly fed antibiotics to treat it without telling about it, all the while his boyfriend had been planning on proposing to him, in this fancy restaurant, amidst all the other happy couples enjoying the romantic atmosphere.

 

 

*

 

 

Kuroo had a hand in front of his mouth, Bokuto had hidden his face into the cushion behind Kuroo’s shoulder, Daichi had both of his hands covering his face, and Suga’s face was absolutely unreadable. Akaashi seemed to be asleep. He’d arrived in middle of Oikawa’s story, after the porn had already  come to a happy end, the climax happened somewhere around the time that Oikawa had gotten to the cake and the sparkles.

He wasn’t sure if the first three were trying to hold their laughter in, and he wouldn’t blame them if they were.

If it happened to anyone else, he’d be laughing too.

But as it were, he was still a little, actually a lot, sore from it.

He fixed a stern, hurt and disapproving gaze at the couple that was very poorly suppressing their snickering. He wanted to say something to them about it, when a sharp inhale drew his attention next to him, to Suga, who was looking at him with scrutiny.

“You had chlamydia?”

Okay, Oikawa could understand why Suga was caught onto that.

“I took care of it the next day, went to doctor to have the test, to confirm because a part of me still couldn’t believe that my ex had cheated on me, and then I got the prescription of antibiotics. And then got tested again three months later to make sure it was really gone. _I’m clean,”_ he stressed the last part.

“I’m still getting tested,” Suga whispered, pushing up from the couch. “Daichi, I’m using your room.”

“For what?” Sawamura asked, his tone bemused when confusion of what Suga had said must’ve mixed with the amusement of Oikawa’s story.

“To masturbate,” Suga replied off-handedly.

“Wait, what? Why my room?” Sawamura questioned in alarm, hurrying after Suga down the hallway.

A cell phone vibrated on the low table, and everyone’s eyes fell on the device.

Oikawa wasn’t sure who’s it was, or when it had been left there.

Kuroo was the first to reach for it.

“Whoa, this guy’s sexting game is off the hook!” he whisper-shouted. From the color of the back cover that Oikawa could see peeking through Kuroo’s fingers, he could tell that the phone didn’t belong to him. It made Oikawa curious of who the cell phone actually belonged to, who’s messages was Kuroo reading without permission.

“Oh, another one,” Bokuto commented, his tone edging to excited.

Oikawa frowned, wondering what they were doing, who’s phone did they have and who’s texts, or rather sexts, were they reading. He had a bad feeling about it all, from the covert way they were shielding the phone from other’s eyes, the way they were bend forward over it.

“I feel like blushing from reading this,” Kuroo snickered, straightening his back to fan his face like he was flustered.

“I know,” Bokuto snickered. “Akaashi, check this out.” He leaned away from Kuroo and towards Akaashi on his other side, showing whatever it was on the screen to Akaashi.

“I don’t think Suga is going to like that you two are reading his texts,” Akaashi replied placidly, baring a glance at Bokuto but not at the phone.

Oikawa’s attention snapped to what they were doing, going from casual intrigue, through the stop at “wait, what are you doing?”, to “I need to know everything right now”. He wanted to go over and see the texts as well, now that he knew it was Suga’s phone. And there was a guy sexting with him. He kind of – okay, fine, _really_ wanted to, _desperately_ needed to, know if he was better than the faceless nameless creep currently bombarding Suga’s phone.

“These aren’t normal texts like “are you up?”. These are way filthier,” Kuroo said in a defensive way, as if the explanation somehow made it okay. “I’m jealous of this guy’s game.”

“Oh, he sent another,” Bokuto crowed and leaned back to Kuroo’s side so they could read it together. “Man, he’s thirsty.”

Kuroo snickered, plucking the phone from Bokuto’s hand with nimble fingers, and Oikawa wanted to snatch it away from him next with even quicker hands.

“How about we reply to this guy?” he asked, already typing something.

“Suga’s going to get mad,” Akaashi protested, his tone indifferent, as if he didn’t really care.

“Suga’s not going to find out,” Kuroo said with amusement.

“Why am I getting mad?” the said man asked, speaking over Kuroo, returning without a sound and without Sawamura.

“No reason,” Bokuto answered hastily, angling his body in a way that would keep Suga from seeing what they were up to.

The movement seemed to only increase Suga’s suspicions as he came closer.

Oikawa braced himself for what would happen next, having no clue of how Suga would react. He had the creeping inkling that it wouldn’t be pretty.

“Is that my phone?”

“Uh, no?”

“Bokuto,” Suga scolded softly tilting his head.

Bokuto wilted under the look, admitting to it immediately, looking ashamed and like a kicked puppy, like he had already been scolded. “Okay, yes.”

“Kuroo, give it back, please,” Suga skipped the scolding. His focus was solely on his device, and Oikawa’s would’ve been to if it had been his phone, texts someone  he was fucking was sending him.  

“Another guy messaged!” Kuroo said, ignoring Suga, but let Bokuto read over his shoulder.

“Kuroo –“ Suga’s waning patience was detectable in the waver in his voice, in the tapping of his finger on his bicep, his arms crossed over his chest.

Oikawa couldn’t help but smirk, and then try and hide it behind a neutral expression – Suga was extremely sexy like this. Maybe because it reminded him of how Suga had been whenever they’d had sex. The seriousness, the cutting of all bullshit from their conversations, the no-nonsense way he had approached everything with. It was determination, Oikawa realized. Suga had been determined about the fucking, and now he was determined about getting his phone back.

Oikawa shifted in his seat, his pants suddenly feeling a bit constricting, his dick more hard than soft.

“In a sec, I’m busy flirting with this guy.”

“Kuroo...” Suga’s tone was getting more menacing, Oikawa’s beginning boner more noticeable by every passing second.

He contemplated whether to pull a pillow or the blanket over his lap to hide it, or whether it would draw attention to his hardening problem.

Kuroo snickered, probably from what he read. “I think he suspects that I’m not you.”

“No, shit, Kuroo,” Suga said with a roll of his eyes.

“How do you have time to fuck all these guys? It’s like you have saloon doors for easy access.”

Cue the sound of sad party trumpet, the mental image of a sad clowns wilting flower. The image Kuroo painted with his words was not pretty, not hot at all. But it did what was probably good, and killed Oikawa’s stiffy.

“Give me my phone,” Suga said sternly, his hands on his hips, his expression utterly serious. He wasn’t just mildly threatening anymore. He was dead serious. Now, if anyone had ever mastered the look that could kill, Suga would be a great apprentice to them.

Meaning, Oikawa was proud of the Suga for mastering the look. Cue the rewinding sound of the sad clown trumpet.

“Would you be up to fucking both of them at the same time? I know it’s a lot of work, and then there’s the logistics and all. I’ll ask if they’re up for a threesome,” Kuroo kept talking like he was oblivious to the threat of death hanging over him.

And then it was gone again.

Wow, his dick was on a roller coaster!

Oikawa wished he could read thoughts so he would know how many creative ways Suga was imagining to kill Kuroo right at that moment.

Kuroo whistled, angling the cell phone to show the photo to his boyfriends. “How long do you think he had to work out and be on a zero fat diet to get abs like that?”

Suga lunged over the back of the couch, trying to get his phone back, but Kuroo was quicker, already moving away, laughing.

“Where do you even find guys like this?” Kuroo asked, running away from Suga, who was chasing him around the living room.

“Kuroo, you asshole, give it back.”

“Do you have a selfie in here that I can send so I can prove I’m you?”

“Kuroo, I swear to anything that you hold unholy that I will kill you if you don’t give me my phone back, asshole.”

“Fine,” Kuroo stopped running. “You don’t need to start calling me names. That’s just mean.”

“Kuroo –“ Suga said in a warning tone.

“Here, take it back, slut.” Kuroo offered the phone to it’s rightful owner, dangling it off of his fingers to let Suga take it, grinning like he’d told a particularly funny joke.

While it had been a bit amusing to watch the play of cat and mouse the two had performed, and Oikawa had tried his best not to laugh at times, he felt a little bad for Suga. Especially for the slur that Kuroo just dropped like it was nothing, like it was common.

Suga didn’t seem to react to it, and Oikawa wondered whether he’d even heard it. But then again, just from the way that Kuroo said it, and Suga didn’t react, and no one else said anything about it...

Was it normal then?

Oikawa looked at Suga, carefully observing him and how he seemed... Like everything was fine. Like the word hadn’t been thrown in the discussion in the first place.

There was a small furrow in the set of Suga’s eyebrows, but that was probably just from reading the messages Kuroo had sent impersonating him.

“You actually suggested the threeway to them,” Suga dropped his hand with the phone in it, exasperated, as he looked to Kuroo.

“Well, yeah. They’re fun,” Kuroo smirked, returning to the couch next to Bokuto.

Suga was silently shaking his head, typing something on his phone.

“What? You don’t think so?”

“They’re too much work,” Suga replied absent mindedly. “I honestly don’t know how you three do it.”

Oikawa would’ve liked to know as well, and he looked to Kuroo, Bokuto and Akaashi, waiting for the answer. He didn’t expect it to actually come from Akaashi, but he would now and then be glad to be proven wrong and be pleasantly surprised.

“With instinct.” Akaashi still looked like he wasn’t really paying attention to his surroundings – it really was weird how he was able to keep up with the conversation when the world he could see out the window was a lot more fascinating to him. “And a lot of talking.”

Suga was nodding, still typing on his phone, and then with a sigh, put it away. “You said to this guy that I’m _‘feeling funky fresh’?”_  He looked up at Kuroo with a dark expression. “You’re dead.”

Kuroo snickered, grinning like a mad man, and hiding the smirk against Bokuto’s stomach.

“At least they didn’t want to curse me off for bailing on the threesome,” Suga commented in his normal tone then, only a second later, apparently over the whole incident now.

Oikawa unclenched his fist, surprised by the action, the relief that filled him. He hadn’t even realized how strung he’d been, thinking that Suga would have sex with, not just someone who wasn’t him, but two of them.

“And I’m not a slut.”

_Finally,_ it was acknowledged. But not in a way that Oikawa had hoped it would. They were so... Casual about it.

“Your sexual history begs to differ,” Kuroo replied easily, getting comfortable with his head in Bokuto’s lap.

“Daichi,” Suga addressed his friend, returning with a cable of some sort in his hand. “I’m not a slut, right?”

“You kind of are,” Sawamura replied with a tug at his expressions, as if he was wincing and smiling at the same time and trying not to show either emotion.

“I’m sorry, Suga, but I’ve never known you to decline anyone who expressed their desire to fuck you.”

Suga’s gaze moved slowly to meet Oikawa’s.

Oikawa arched his eyebrow in a silent question. _“If only they knew,”_ he thought with a rueful smirk, while the conversation continued around them.

“I wouldn’t either if the guys always look like the one who sent the shirtless selfie.”

“It might not even be really him, though, just a photo they found somewhere.”

“You’re blowing this out of proportion,” Suga defended, his voice a little less... zestful than it usually was when he returned his focus from Oikawa to everyone else. “So I like to have sex,” he shrugged indifferently, like he didn’t actually care about anyone’s answer to his question. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” Sawamura was the first to assure him, looking up from his grouch in front of the television, his arms buried behind it and the stand, his hands fiddling with the cable. Oikawa had no idea what he was planning with it, and neither was he interested to find out.

“But you can’t just fuck the sadness out of you, Suga,” Akaashi added after a quiet beat.

A longer quiet moment followed that statement, and Oikawa could finally understand why, now that he knew more about Suga’s background, his history. Not everything, and not even close to how much he’d like to know, but he could get the meaning behind the heaviness of the silence, how it weighed on the earlier easy-going atmosphere, nearly crushing it under it.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Suga replied, a small smile on his lips, hinting at deviousness. And for the first time, Oikawa could see it for what it was – a front. A mask to hide behind. And he wanted to smash his mouth on Suga’s to kiss it away from him, to taste in on his tongue. “But I should go,” Suga continued, taking his alluring smile with him, leaving Oikawa’s eyes to track his back, dipping lower to his ass.

What? It’s right there for him to look at! What is he supposed to do? Look away?! Are you stupid?!

“Suga –“ Sawamura rose from the television, the cable only attached from one end, to go after his best friend to the door.

“I’m not mad,” Suga turned to assure as he put his shoes on, still giving Oikawa the perfect view to look at his ass when he bent down.

_Thank you,_ Oikawa might’ve sighed. _And fuck you,_ he thought bitterly right after, his brain stumbling on itself with how fast he went from one extreme to the other. The two consecutive thoughts had been regular visitors in his head ever since he found who Suga was. He was well aware, painfully so, of how often he’d thought like that in the past months.

“Well, I might be a little bit mad at Kuroo and Bokuto for going through my phone,” Suga added in a glowering tone, peeking past Sawamura’s body to look at the two deviants snickering on the couch and doting on Akaashi, and flipping them off. “I’m leaving because I have plans.”

“You don’t need to fuck the guys just because Kuroo set it up,” Sawamura chuckled nervously, scratching at the back of his head, his body language screaming ‘uncomfortable’.

“That’s not it,” Suga shook his head, his expression earnest when Oikawa was able to drag his gaze there. “It’s Thursday, I have a standing appointment,” he continued in a whisper-like voice and Oikawa barely heard it.

He wondered what the appointment could’ve been, while Sawamura performed a smack on his forehead, as if chastising himself for forgetting something. Even though the slap of Sawamura’s palm to his forehead was light, it was a rather satisfyingly loud sound, and Oikawa smirked, hiding it behind his hand.

He didn’t usually get pleasure from others hurting themselves, or from thinking they were dumb. It was just funny to see Sawamura so _extra._

“Sorry,” Sawamura apologized to Suga, who went to hug him, probably as a goodbye. They did that a lot, to Oikawa’s subtle chagrin.

He looked away so he wouldn’t see their expressions, but moved his gaze back when he felt eyes on him, meeting Suga’s over Daichi’s shoulder right before he exited the apartment.

Something unsaid passed between them in the short moment, in the fraction of a second that they held the eye contact. Something that gave Oikawa hope that he would soon be texting Suga about sex too.

He just wished that he wouldn’t just end up being a part of the teasing too, the bud of a joke, if anyone was ever to find out.

 

 

*

 

 

“You were being quiet,” Kuroo commented casually a couple of hours later, an edge in his tone, clearly more than just _casually_ interested to know why, as they did the dishes as per the chore schedule, after the dinner they all had enjoyed together.

He and Kuroo had played rock, paper, scissors to determine who would wash and who would rinse, and Oikawa had grinned smugly and victoriously when he’d pulled a rock on Kuroo’s scissors, even though he’d know that Kuroo would pull scissors.

Hey, he’d lived with Kuroo for almost a year, and they’d played rock, paper, scissors more times than he could count if he had all of his roommates’ hands and fingers as his use. He’d seen Kuroo play rock, paper, scissors many times with the others as well, and a pattern had emerged quite soon – Kuroo preferred to start with scissors about ninety percent of the time.

“I was busy observing,” Oikawa explained, putting the bowl he was rinsing on the rack to dry, shaking his hands a little right after to get the excess water off of them. “A lot of information was thrown around.”

“You mean about Suga?” Kuroo raised his eyebrow at him in question, his gaze fixed on his task in the sink. “Yeah, the man’s a mystery. No one knows what’s going on inside his head. I stopped trying a long time ago.” Kuroo spoke with the quiet clinging of the dishes accompanying his words, filling in the silence surrounding them in the empty kitchen.

“You’re still friends, right?” Oikawa turned in a spot to lean his hip to the counter while he waited for Kuroo to finish with the next bowl so he could rinse it.

“Yeah, of course,” Kuroo answered easily, a natural reaction to a simple question. “I’ve known him for almost six years. We’ve been friends for years. He’s one of my closest friends.”

Oikawa accepted the bowl as he had to wonder if Suga shared the sentiment. Or, if he did, if it maybe was with a grain of salt.

“Teasing is what we do,” Kuroo added, an absent after thought, with a nonchalant shrug.

“I am a little afraid of letting you ever touch my phone,” Oikawa stated, mentally checking where he’d left it, just to make sure it wasn’t at an easy reach of Kuroo’s grabby hands.

“Why? Do you have someone you’re sexting?” Kuroo asked in a teasing lilt, interested for what was most likely his selfish purposes, all over again.

Oikawa looked away, made a conscious effort to smirk just a little but angling his head in a way that would let Kuroo see it. He knew what he was doing. But why he was doing it?

He honestly had no idea when he went to bed that night, the question circling around in his head.

Kuroo had even grinned like _‘challenge accepted’_ and it made Oikawa apprehensive, further question his actions and motives, wonder what kind of evils he’d called upon.

Why would he expose himself to teasing, to scrutiny? Did he crave the attention that desperately? Did he want others to find out that he and Suga had fucked?

He still had the text messages saved on his phone, in the threat of their conversations via text. His phone was locked, so it wouldn’t be all that easy to get to those messages. But they were still there, and if someone was really determined, they could have the access.

So, why?

Why did he put himself in that position?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Kuroo came off as a little bit of an asshole in this chapter, and I'm sorry!!!! He's the best, though. I love him! He's fun to write! And I just imagine him easily teasing all of his friends when he knows, or is 99,99% sure he won't upset or offend anyone.  
> He had pure intentions! I swear! 
> 
> (Poor Suga) 
> 
> There was a major plot point in this that will cause schism in the future chapters... Keep a look out for that ;)


	12. 270316

 

 

_“How does it feel?”_

_Suga picked on the corner of the small decorative throw pillow that was harder than any pillow had any right to be to be called a pillow, and that was how he knew it’s function wasn’t for comfort but to make the couch prettier. It was ugly._

_“Nothing.” He lifted his gaze from the overworked and worn corner, a single string fraying out of the stitching, to look straight at the psychiatrist – or was she a therapist? he could never remember the distinction and differences between them, and he didn’t care to right then either – to say deadpan. “It feels like nothing.”_

 

 

*

 

 

Daichi was nervously tapping his fingers on his desk, gazing out the window, swiveling back and forth in small movements in his desk chair. His desktop was in screensaving mode, a slideshow of buildings of magnificent architecture.

“Hey,” Suga’s bright answer came through, and Daichi sprung up from his seat.

“Hey, sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, I was in the shower, and I’m currently dripping water on my floor.”

“Sorry,” Daichi chuckled, imagining the sight of Suga with wet hair dropping water one drop at a time. It was cute.

“It’s fine,” Suga replied kindly, a muffled ruffle accompanying his words, and Daichi suspected he was trying to dry his hair with a towel. “But why are you calling?”

Daichi shook the image of Suga in varying states of wetness out of his mind and adapted a sincerely repentant tone to convey how truly sorry he was that, “I need to cancel on today.”

A silence followed his words, making Daichi nervous in a whole new way. Earlier, it had been the excited jittery, now it was more anxious. He hated canceling Sunday movie plans with Suga, and this was probably the first time ever.

And he hoped it would be the last one too.

 But this was a special occasion.

A quiet sound of throat clearing. “Okay.”

Daichi tried to figure out Suga’s tone of voice, but it was too short of a word for that. More silence followed and it unnerved Daichi as he couldn’t figure out how Suga was taking the change of plans. He hoped he could actually see Suga’s face, but he wasn’t comfortable with the FaceTiming or whateverthehell it was called so –

“Can I ask why?”

 _Of course you can ask why,_ Daichi thought fondly, actually glad that Suga had cut through his straying thoughts. “Kuroo has an extra ticket to a game, and he asked me if I’d go with him. Akaashi and Bokuto are both busy, or at work, and he didn’t want to go alone.”

“Oh, okay. Have fun.”

Daichi smiled when he heard the smile in Suga’s tone. He was relieved, to say the least, that Suga was okay with it. Their Sunday movie tradition had been going on for years, and Daichi would’ve understood if Suga was letdown that he was deviating from them.

But Suga was okay with it.

And Daichi was probably a little too star-struck that Kuroo wanted to hang with him to really wonder _why_ Suga was okay with it, why he should’ve caught onto the edge in Suga’s gentle and bright voice, recognized how it sounded just a little bit like he was disappointed.

The rational part of his brain told him that obviously Suga would be disappointed. He would be too if Suga canceled on their plans. But Suga was a great friend too, and would most definitely understand why he was so excited. Maybe tease about it a little bit, but understand nevertheless.

“I’ll make this up to you,” Daichi promised, stalling in his pacing around the room when he heard a knock at his door.

“There’s no need,” Suga assured, at the same time that Kuroo poked his head inside the room. “Have fun with Kuroo.”

“I’ll try,” Daichi said, while tentatively smiling at the said man. “I should go, he’s waiting so we can leave.”

“Sure,” Suga agreed. “Um, see you next week?”

“Yeah. Bye, Suga.”

With that Daichi hung up the phone and turned back to Kuroo. He looked too handsome for it to be legal leaning his shoulder to the doorframe with nonchalant and cool air about him.

Ugh, Daichi hated how he loved that about Kuroo. It made functioning around him too hard at times. He hoped his slight jitteriness wouldn’t translate to Kuroo as what it was, nervousness about being close to him, but as genuine excitement about the game.

“Ready to go?”

“Yep,” Daichi answered, picking up his light jacket and throwing it on as he followed Kuroo to the front door.

“I hope Suga wasn’t disappointed, or mad at you,” Kuroo said, always so considerate, melting Daichi’s insides, giving an extra beat to his heart and the faintest of blushes on his cheeks.

“No, no, he was fine with it. Wished for us to have fun,” he waved the concerns away, convincing himself about it at the same time.

“Cool,” Kuroo grinned.

 _Yeah, cool,_ Daichi agreed with a smile.

 

 

*

 

 

“You rang?”

Oikawa was leaning his right shoulder on the wall by the door, his head tilted in the angle that he knew made his smirk a lot more _smirk_ than usual, his hip cocked to the side and away from the wall and his right leg crossed over his left one with just the tip of his shoe on the ground.

He was exuding confidence, looking Suga up and down.

Suga was only wearing a t-shirt with a wide collar that gave a beautiful show of his clavicle. If it had been anyone else wearing the shirt, Oikawa knew they’d put it on for a specific purpose, but this was Suga and from their previous sexual encounters, or trysts as the romantic unfilterable part of his brain supplied, he knew that Suga never tried that hard. It was probably just something he’d thrown on so he wouldn’t open the door shirtless. Not that Oikawa wouldn’t have appreciated that, _loved that,_ but the sight of the collarbones, of the smooth untainted and unblemished skin stretching over the fragile looking bones was driving him crazy as well, making him want to lick across them, mouth over them, bite and work until they were covered in beautiful shades of purple.

Oikawa was wrenched from his appreciation of how delectable Suga could look in a simple t-shirt, not by an answer to his question, unless one counted it as an answer to be pulled inside the apartment by the lapels of his open jacket, pushed against a wall while the door closed somewhere he wasn’t paying attention to, unable to when he was thoroughly kissed like he was water and Suga was a man on a brink of dehydration in a desert without the lovely mirage of an oasis. Or maybe he was the oasis and Suga the parched man in the middle of the never ending desolate dunes, desperate for water...

“No one can find out,” Suga broke away to say, looking at him with dead serious eyes, slightly panting, breath ghosting on Oikawa’s chin.

“No one,” he confirmed in a whisper, gently moving Suga’s hands from the tight grip they had on the jacket and surging for another kiss, more passionate, desperate, open mouthed and all things messy and uncoordinated. He steered Suga backwards, towards the bedroom, the way still familiar to him, like the road to his childhood home whenever he went to visit his parents.

He’d waited for this for months.

He’d been surprised earlier that day, sat on the couch with his bowl of cereal like a civilized nineteen year old student would in front of a tv, to see Sawamura leave with Kuroo. It was Sunday, and if Sawamura ever left anywhere on Sundays, and he always left the apartment on Sundays, usually at the same time too, it was to Suga’s.

So, the fact that he’d left with Kuroo was baffling and out of ordinary, and Oikawa had had to double check that it was Sunday. He’d spared a short moment to ponder on where the unlikely duo were headed, wondering if Kuroo had been invited to the movie days exclusively meant for the super-secret-mega-best-friend –club that had only two members, Suga and Sawamura. At the familiar and unwelcomed sting of jealousy that _he_ hadn’t been invited, Oikawa had dropped that train of thought with the unfinished bowl of soggy, multicolored and potentially just a little bit unhealthy cereal into the kitchen sink to let someone else figure it out since it wasn’t his week to take care of the dishes, picked up his notebook and sat down by his keyboard, to think about something, anything else.

And then.

Then he’d got the message.

A grin had grown on his face, and he’d taken a calculated amount of time before he’d replied. He wasn’t _that_ easy for Suga, or at least he tried to pretend so and was eager to give the impression that he had the option to say ‘no’, even when his body was screaming at him to reply ‘yes’ right that very second and then rush to Suga’s apartment.

And now, about an hour after Suga had sent _‘can you come over now?’_ – and yes, he’d taken an hour to take a shower because he wanted to smell like his body wash, and brush his teeth because he didn’t want to kiss Suga with coffee breath, and carefully select what to wear because he liked to look good when he was out walking on the streets among other pedestrians who had eyes and minds that formed opinions – he was pushing Suga, the man he’d actually had dreams about fucking now and then, on the bed.

He wasn’t thinking on what had changed Suga’s mind, not when there was a thought at the back of his subconscious certain that it had to do something with Sawamura going somewhere with Kuroo. He wasn’t bothered to figure out what he made Suga perform a full one-eighty, an ollie like he was a world class skateboarder, when Suga’s earlier, very adamant and unshakeable stance had been that they’d never fuck again.

He wasn’t complaining that he’d had to wait for months.

He was just glad that he could finally kiss Suga again, touch him again, feel his skin under his palm as they helped each other out of their clothes. He was practically over the moon with all the natural chemicals swirling in his brain from hearing Suga moan again as he thrust into him.

Oh, fuck, how good it felt to be inside Suga again.

He’d really missed it, basically craved it. His whole body was singing contentment as he finished into the condom, like the taste of chocolate gave a small burst of endorphins, but magnified a thousand times.

 

 

*

 

 

However, now they were done, and no matter how euphoric Oikawa had felt with the rush of serotonin, like a zombie that had had the taste of brain after months of trying to chase down and catch a human in the post-apocalyptic world were every resource was dwindling no matter whether you were a human or not anymore, he knew that Suga would kindly kick him out.

The regret that he’d have to leave soon – because for whatever reason Suga wouldn’t sleep with anyone in his bed, and there had to be a significant reason behind that, one that Oikawa was rather eager to find out – brought a rush of all the other questions he’d pushed away earlier in his hurry and hunger for Suga.

He had to ask.

“What changed?”

“Hm?” Suga looked up and their eyes met, the contact obscured for a moment when Suga pulled his shirt down over his head.

“What made you change your mind about us fucking again?”

Suga’s eyes traveled to the side, and Oikawa wasn’t sure if he was thinking so hard on his answer because he was trying to come up with a plausible lie, or if he was wondering if he should be honest.

“I can’t change my mind?” Suga asked with a slight smile, both flirtatious and coy. He was bending down to pick up his jeans, strategically giving Oikawa a wondrous view of his ass.  

“You can,” Oikawa replied slowly, albeit a little suspicious of the non-answer and momentarily distracted by what he was seeing. “I was wondering why.”

Suga didn’t answer, and Oikawa waited. He waited as they dressed up in their separate little worlds, pulling on pants and fastening the button, the belt with the quiet clinking sound of it filling the heavy silence between them.

“Did something happen?”  Oikawa prompted when Suga didn’t seem likely to just tell him anything. He remembered quite vividly Suga telling him how he wasn’t used to knowing the people he fucked, and he probably wasn’t used to explaining himself either. Was so out of practice of opening up to new people that it would take some prodding for it to happen.

Gently, of course, so he wouldn’t spook Suga.

If only there was a key that just magically fit a lock and Oikawa could see all the treasures Suga kept hidden in the vault of his thoughts. If only it was that easy to just learn what made the man tick. And even if he did figure out what the key was, if only he didn’t need to wield it like a weapon and fight some shadow monsters with it until he had access to the lock. No matter if there were cartoon characters helping him out.

But he was adamant of getting Suga out of that shell, to be more than just an entity entirely driven by physical need, addicted to the sensation of a touch over a rational thought.

“I was bored and just fancied a fuck. You were the first to reply,” Suga finally answered, jumping up and down a little to pull his jeans on. “Thanks for that, by the way.” He sent a disarming smile at Oikawa, pushing the button through the hole, Oikawa’s eyes following the movement of his fingers.

Oikawa hated to know that he was just one of many who Suga had messaged. But at least Suga had messaged him, when for months they’d barely been anything to each other.

And, yeah, it had been a good fuck. A really good one. Holy shit, Batman! It was an amazing fuck.

Probably only amplified to feel so when he’d build it up so much in his head in the past of months, when he’d not-so-subtly flirted with Suga, covertly suggested of them fucking again, and now that his expectations had been met.

Honestly, even with the reluctant play of hard to get he’d put on when he’d read Suga’s frank inquiry of his availability for a quick fuck, he’d been eager when he read Suga’s text. Confused, but eager. More eager than confused, and it had removed all questions out of his mind, other than _‘when can I come over?’_ , very much echoing Suga’s  apparent eagerness with the question of how soon he could.

But now, now more follow up questions were resurfacing, demanding to be asked and answered. With real fucking answers. Which was a lot to ask for from someone who seemed to be a professional at the avoiding and dodging of answering questions he didn’t want to, out of whatever fear or judgement he was afraid of.

Suga really should introduce himself to be people as “Sugawara Koushi, a nap enthusiast, an amazing fuck, and an elite, a world champion, the master of diversion and a professional evader of any and all questions. Quite a  business card, wouldn’t you agree?

“Okay, but what now?” Oikawa asked and pulled his shirt on, following Suga to the living room and to the small kitchen.

“Now?” Suga glanced over his shoulder at him, his eyebrows raised and furrowed in confusion.

Oikawa wanted to sigh – was Suga really that oblivious or was he just pretending to skip giving a straight answer – but refrained from doing so.

“Are you going to pretend like we haven’t seen each other’s dicks, or are we going to keep fucking?” Oikawa clarified, combing his hair behind his ear in an attempt to straighten it from the mess Suga’s hands had undoubtedly made of it. And also, to direct his building frustration of trying to penetrate the thick steel walls of the vault Suga had enclosed the parts he didn’t want anyone to see, turning the jitteriness of his exasperated nervousness into small movements that wouldn’t just outright reveal how gravely they needed to be upfront with each other about what they were doing.

“Do you want something to drink?” Suga diverted again, grapping an empty glass from a cupboard.

Oikawa wasn’t having it. He needed answers, not polite manners. “Suga,” he said in a warning tone.

“Did I tell you already how weird it was to hear you moan my name?” Suga turned his head to look over his shoulder at him, a playful smile on his lips, while he filled a glass with water.

“You didn’t,” Oikawa sighed and leaned his arms on top of the breakfast bar that divided the small kitchenette from the living room. “But I need an actual answer to my question. Are we resuming this –“ He motioned with his hand between them. “ – Or are you just going to message me again in a couple of months when you happen to be bored again?”

He really hated that he’d just been one of many options, just one of many numbers in Suga’s phone. He needed to know where they stood with each other.

He’d be happy to resume the semi-regular fucking, but he needed to hear that from Suga, in explicit words stating so without any glimmer wishful thinking or shadow of doubt. He wouldn’t even mind that they wouldn’t be exclusive, just as long as he knew what he and Suga were doing.

Really.

It wasn’t too much to ask for.

“To be honest,” Suga turned around to lean back to the counter, looking Oikawa straight in eyes. “I only messaged you when I was bored.”

“Suga,” Oikawa really, _really_ tried his very best not to whine.

“Fine,” Suga sighed and put his glass away, looking away for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts, figuring out what to say, how to word what he was about to say.

Leaving Oikawa in anticipating pins and needles, telling himself not to wish for anything, for he had no idea what Suga would say.

“You’re a really good fuck.”

“Thank you,” Oikawa replied calmly, flattered of course, but not allowing himself to preen under it, not yet. He was still firmly standing on the hatch keeping his expectations and hopes under.

“And I would like to continue this.”

Oikawa felt his cheeks move with the grin that took over his lips before it registered to him that he was actually grinning.

“So I can text you and ask if you’re free for a fuck, and you’d actually reply?” He couldn’t help but tease, still salty over the fact that Suga had just stopped replying to him, not even a ‘no’, back then, months ago, before they learned each other’s names.

“Yes.”

It was curt, and Oikawa had to check. “Positively? An actual, uncompromised ‘yes’`?”

“If I’m not busy with anything else,” Suga confirmed.

 _Or_ anyone _else,_ Oikawa added mentally.

“No one can find out, though. No one.”

Oikawa took the stress of the words seriously and wanted to reassure Suga that he wouldn’t blab.

“No one at the loft, you can’t tell your friends, or any stranger sitting next to you in a train when you’re feeling chatty. No one.”

Oikawa scoffed at the lack of faith Suga had in him. “What are you worried about?”

Suga shifted his weight from one leg to both and then back to the one. “That’s a vague question,” he commented with a smile after he gave the question some thought.

Oikawa interpreted his answer to mean that there were multiple things that Suga was worried about but wasn’t happy to come forward with none of them, to open up about any of them.

Getting anything out of Suga was like pulling teeth, and Oikawa had the dawning, foreboding inkling that it wouldn’t get any easier in the future.

“If you’re worried about being judged for having sex with me, why do it at all?” he amended his earlier question. It might’ve been a risky question to ask since Suga had already cast him aside before like he meant nothing, like he wasn’t all that important to him. Like he really was just one of many, replaceable like a lightbulb to a lamp. So, why question at all why Suga would even have sex with him.

Oikawa realized, as he saw Suga’s eyes fill with sadness that he had never seen the like of before. For a short, delicate moment, Suga looked vulnerable and like he was about to break down, but with a blink it was gone when Suga looked down, and then up to him with a devilish smile. “I like sex,” he shrugged.

And oh, what a magnificently unmistakable cover up that was.

Oikawa truly, finally fully realized and accepted that the reason behind Suga’s desire for sex was complex, a long story as Iwaizumi liked to say.

He was honestly impressed that Suga could pull off the like so quickly after he’d almost been torn apart at the fraying seams holding up his carefully crafted front of ease. Even if he did it with much more conviction at the shared loft than he did right now, but it was glaring enough to pinpoint as that. A cover. A lie. Or at the very least, a half-truth.

Maybe Suga really did just happen to like sex. But there had to be a driving force to push him towards it, to seek what the sex could offer him.

Oikawa really couldn’t wait to figure out what it was. He was itching to ask more about it, but restrained himself. Suga clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it, not with him at least. Hopefully with time that would change and he would come to learn more about Suga.

 

 

*

 

 

“Where the hell have you been?”

Oikawa was taken aback, had to literally reel back a little at the aggressive way Iwaizumi asked it the second he opened the door.

“Out,” he answered confidently once he got over the initial shock of Iwaizumi’s demand to know of his whereabouts.

“I called you like ten times but you didn’t pick up.”

“Battery died,” Oikawa fibbed, still in that ease that he managed to muster in order to deliver half-truths, when he had just turned his phone off when he’d seen Iwaizumi’s caller ID.

“Did you miss me?” he crooned playfully as he sat down next to his best friend and rest his chin on his shoulder to look up at him as cutely as he could.

Iwaizumi scoffed, pushing his head away with a hand on his forehead. “You wish. I was just wondering if you’d want to go out and have dinner with me?”

“Is there a new waitress you want to ask out?” Oikawa teased with a smirk.

“No.”

Oikawa raised his eyebrows to communicate his disbelief. Iwaizumi‘s denial was such a blatant lie it didn’t even warrant to be called out on in actual words.

“Yes.” Iwaizumi soon changed his answer.

Oikawa snickered, he really knew his best friend well.

“Yeah, okay, let’s go,” he agreed and kicked his feet out to get up. He was hungry – the sex had worked up his appetite – and knew that Iwaizumi would insist to pay.

“Can’t wait to see you get shut down again,” he kept teasing, earning a playful shove at his shoulder that only intensified his snickers and almost made him crash into the door.

Good thing that he didn’t. He didn’t want a broken nose _that_ bad.

“You’re in a good mood,” Iwaizumi observed once they were in the elevator, already on their way down. “Where was this ‘out’ and who were you with? Did you pick things up with your fuckbuddy?”

“Pick things up?” Oikawa pondered on the choice of words, certain that he had never mentioned to Iwaizumi that he and his ‘fuckbuddy’ had stopped. “No.”

He spied from the corner of his eyes how Iwaizumi was looking at him, and relented.

“This is a new guy.”

“A new guy?”

“What’s with the tone?” Oikawa asked, his voice a little high pitched with indignation.

“It’s already a second guy since you moved back. I just think that...” Iwaizumi trailed off and inhaled audibly before he forced out a short sigh.

“That...?” Oikawa mimicked, and prompted. “What?”

“You should give yourself more time to get over the first guy that broke your heart,” Iwaizumi rushed the words out without looking at him, telling Oikawa just with his tense posture, how his hands were stuffed into his pockets, how uncomfortable he was with the subject.

Oikawa couldn’t fault him for that. He was plenty uncomfortable himself too and would love it if his ex was never ever, ever, _ever,_ brought up again.

“Pfft,” he waved his hand flippantly, like the guy didn’t even matter anymore, like Iwaizumi’s worry was for nothing. “I’m already over him,” he said cheerily.

 

 

 

*

 

 

_“Nothing,” he whispered in his mind as he looked at himself in the mirror, his hair still wet but dried with the towel he was still holding in his hand, his arm limp at his side, his cell phone grasped tightly in his other hand._

_“Nothing,” he repeated the word as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, repeating the word like a mantra, but stopping before it lost all meaning._

_He opened his eyes, meeting them in the mirror, ignoring the redness, the unshed tears he’d managed to hold back with great power of mind he had no idea he was possessing anymore, where he’d pulled it out from._

_“Nothing,” he whispered one more time._

_With single-minded determination, knowing exactly what he needed, he opened the messaging app, the conversation that had been silent for months, only that one person in his mind as a possible fix to the situation._

_He needed to not think. He couldn’t let himself think._

_Thinking was dangerous, and he needed something equally as dangerous to combat it._

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at all that light angst.... Spoiler, it's not getting any better. 
> 
> I realized I didn't put in Suga's thoughts in the last two chapters, and I apologize for that, and probably overcompensated for it with this chapter. 
> 
> Anyhoo, I hope you enjoyed! (Is it cruel to say that about a chapter that was nothing but angst? Probably)  
> *puts on a fake, wide and obnoxiously happy smile* See you next chapter!


	13. 160416

 

_It’s not enough, is it?_

 

*

 

Oikawa fed himself with spoonfuls of cereal, the colors of each semi-nutritious ring straight from some play-doh factory, and definitely the ingredients in every double rainbow too.  Also, what he was sure to be the reason for the diabetes waiting in his future.

But it tasted good, kind of.

Well, good enough of pass for a mediocre late breakfast.

And it was the only kind of cereal in the kitchen, so Oikawa didn’t really have a choice if he wanted to have cereal.

He really craved the cereal.

Someone definitely needed to go and do the grocery shopping, though – the topic of an ongoing argument between Kuroo and Ushijima, if it could even be called an argument when Kuroo kept childishly insisting that it was Ushijima’s turn, only to be countered with a stern, blank look, as if Ushijima didn’t understand what Kuroo was saying, as if they both didn’t speak the same language.

Oikawa brought the spoon back to his mouth as he followed the scene unfold, the now and then comments from Bokuto and Terushima feeding the absurdly heatless flames of Kuroo and Ushijima’s “bickering”. The word really deserved the air quotes around it. It could hardly be called bickering.

However, it was quite enjoyable, amusing even, and he might’ve been snickering to himself here and there, quietly of course so he wouldn’t draw unwanted attention to himself. He didn’t want to become the focus of attention right in the middle of a squabble that didn’t have anything to do with him. He was content just watching with mild interest and horrific curiosity as the words of Iwaizumi came back to him from the dark recesses of his brain.

_“Try to move out of the apartment as soon as possible.”_

_Oikawa had frowned subtly, quickly smoothing his features not to encourage wrinkles to become more apparent on his skin. “Why?”_

_“Look,” Iwaizumi started, and Oikawa knew just from his tone of voice from that one word that Iwaizumi was about to say something possibly rude, knowing he might hurt someone’s feelings with what he was about to say and was already apologizing for it before he even said anything._

_“I like your roommates, I mean, most of them are my friends.”_

_“Yeah, so?”_

_“But they’re all a little bit dysfunctional,” Iwaizumi stated, when someone else, anyone else, might’ve said it with a subconscious wince on their face as if it hurt themselves to say the words._

_Oikawa had a strong inkling he knew what Iwaizumi meant, and would probably agree with him in a heartbeat, but he still asked to get a confirmation. “How so?”_

_Iwaizumi took a deep breath, as if he was preparing for a long winded comment, as if he was already exhausted from it. “Well, first of all –“ He paused abruptly to sit up better, his back straightening and posture changing as he leaned forward a little, like he was about to deliver major gossip._

_It made Oikawa smirk and he mimicked the move, leaning forward on his elbows on the table in between them._

_“Daichi makes pretty decent money at his job,” Iwaizumi said. “Like, really decent. He could rent a lavish top floor apartment in a building with a doorman if he wanted to, but remains to live in your apartment.”_

_“Because of Kuroo,” Oikawa nodded, sipping his tea and smacking his lips straight after. Maybe it had been a bad decision to put on lip gloss._

_“Because of Kuroo,” Iwaizumi nodded as well, confirming Oikawa’s words to be true._

_It hadn’t escaped Oikawa’s observations how taken Sawamura was by Kuroo, how the steady man looked at the man who must’ve been a cat in his previous life. That was the only way to explain the likeness the man had for felines and their mannerisms._

_“And Kuroo and Bokuto...” Iwaizumi shook his head. “For years they were in this weird state of “are we boyfriends?” where they occasionally fucked, like every day, morning and night, and then acted like they were single when they went out to clubs and flirted with other people as if they didn’t just suck each other off at the club bathroom. And they got jealous of each other and mad that the other had flirted with someone else when they’d just done the same as well and they’d fight, and then fuck to make up, go to sleep and start the destructive cycle all over again the next day.”_

_Okay, so, there was some judgement there that Oikawa kind of wanted to unpack, but Iwaizumi was moving on before he had the chance to address the exact issue there._

_“And then once they both flirted with the same dude, who you won’t be surprised to find out was Akaashi. They had amazing sex together because for some reason Akaashi fancied them both, at the same time. The next day they announced that they’re now in a polyamorous relationship.”_

_“They work now,” Oikawa shrugged, nonplussed and un-opinionated about their relationship, when on the inside he was bursting with curiosity to find out more about their dynamic, how everything worked between them, who fucked who and all that jazz. Not that he’d invade their sex life so far as to actually ask what the mechanisms were in their relationship. It was just passing intrigue, something that sometimes just popped into his head during empty spaces of time. And during the nights when he could kind of hear them having sex when they weren’t technically allowed to have sex when others were home._

_It was a roommate rule. Oikawa didn’t question it, but, had been unbelievably keen to find out the original reason behind it._

_“Terushima is out all night, every night, tagging the walls, and I swear he’s spent more time in a jail just this year than he has at the apartment.” Iwaizumi was continuing again, steamrolling ahead now that he’d gathered some speed._

_Oikawa did know this too, about Terushima, had already accompanied Sawamura once to bail Terushima out. Plus, Terushima’s hands and tattered clothes were always covered in spray paint, and he smelt of the paint, even right after shower. It was like the man was emanating the smell from his pores. It was unhealthy and toxic and Oikawa often wondered how Terushima could deal with the smell._

_“Ushijima is the most emotionless person I’ve ever met, I swear he has no expressions.”_

_Oikawa snorted with derision, agreeing with his whole heart. He was convinced that Ushijima didn’t have a soul, and would love to prove that to be true, more than anything. Just to maybe make him stop the out of nowhere comments and encouragement that Ushijima kept spouting of how he could do better, when Oikawa already knew that he was doing just fine for himself with what he had._

_“And after three years,” Iwaizumi sighed deep, “I still have no idea what he does for a living, where he gets his paycheck.”_

_Oikawa rolled his eyes, baffled by Iwaizumi’s_ want _to even find out. He certainly didn’t care to know where Ushijima went in the mornings, where he came from in the late afternoons._

_“Then there’s Moniwa and his fucked up situation with his ex-girlfriend...” Iwaizumi trailed off, and Oikawa smirked._

_He knew Iwaizumi had fucked Moniwa’s ex-girlfriend, who was less of an ex right now as they had flipped the switch by the sign next to their relationship status back to ‘on’._

_Oikawa was extremely interested, and a little bit invested too, to find out how long that would last. He had a bet with Kuroo that they would be ‘off’ by the end of the month. Kuroo had even less faith in the couple, only giving them a week._

 

Oikawa was pulled from his memories when he got a jacket thrown in his face, his cereal bowl tipping over and clattering on the table. He thanked the stars that he had managed to empty it while he had been thinking back, or he’d have soggy pants on.

He pulled the jacket to his lap and looked up to find the culprit who had rudely interrupted his thoughts, his eyebrow cocked to ask the ‘really?’ without having to actually say it.

“We’re going grocery shopping,” Sawamura said when their eyes met, already shrugging his jacket on.

Oikawa had nothing against it, although it wasn’t really his turn to.

But the bickering between Kuroo and Ushijima, and Bokuto who was there to offer support to his boyfriend, had grown louder and was a lot closer to a full-blown fight now, random and old subjects that had been already settled a long time ago dragged into it like statement about the other’s character and morality and what they haven’t done when and like they were supposed to, and to defend themselves against the claims.

“Fine,” Oikawa agreed, as if the idea of going grocery shopping was the worst he could think of, putting on the show for fun. Sawamura didn’t need to know that he’d started to look for a way to slip out of the kitchen before he was dragged into the quarrel. “But you’re paying.”

“Fine, I’ll pay.” Sawamura acquiesced with a shrug. It would just be divided between the roommates at a later day.

Oikawa wondered whether Sawamura was volunteering himself to do the groceries – was it to show loyalty to Kuroo that would most definitely go unnoticed or unappreciated, or was it just to get away from the headache inducing, pointless fighting as well.

He didn’t ask for he had an inkling that Sawamura liked to pretend that everyone was oblivious to his pining. So, as he shrugged his jacket on to shield a little bit from the very wet drizzle and wind that waited to make everyone who dared to step their foot outside miserable, and to fill in the silence that reigned between them, he chose another route.

“How’s Suga?”

The elevator doors closed and Sawamura turned his head and – to Oikawa’s glee as he really liked that he was taller than Sawamura – lifted his chin up a little to look at him. “Why?”

Okay, protective much?

But Oikawa decided to put the sassiness away for the time being. He could admit that there had been a _tone_ in his voice that would put him on an edge too if one of the girls Iwaizumi had dated and then dumped came over to ask him “How’s Hajime?”.

Also, as much as he was for the impromptu grocery trip, he didn’t want it to be uncomfortable and decided to play nice.

On a third note, he had a feeling that Suga wouldn’t think highly of him for being rude to Sawamura.

“Just wondering,” he shrugged, kicking up the nonchalance on the scale from one to ten up to eleven. “Haven’t seen him at the loft for a while.”

It had been a couple of weeks since Oikawa had seen Suga at the loft last. In Suga’s apartment however. The last time they’d fucked was four days ago. But Sawamura didn’t need to know that. Was never allowed to know that.

Sawamura turned his head away, looking straight ahead at the elevator doors when he answered. “He’s been busy.” Vague and unhelpful, and strangely said in a bland voice, like he was just repeating what was most likely a lie from Suga.

Although, Oikawa didn’t have any idea what ‘busy’ entailed exactly. Busy with what? Work? Or fucking a string of nameless men he would never see again?

He wasn’t jealous. Just... Preferred to think the first option over any other, just as likely, option.

Sawamura didn’t elaborate further, and Oikawa didn’t push. He could read between the lines, the way that Sawamura snapped his mouth shut told him everything he needed to know.

Sawamura was worried about the ‘busy’ part too. He wouldn’t be up to theorizing for the reasons behind that with anyone, or at the very least, not with Oikawa.

“Why are you asking?” Sawamura surprised him by asking when they stepped out of the elevator and in a few quick strides were outside.

Oikawa pulled his hood up to keep the wetness from his hair. “Just wondering,” he shrugged again, matching his footsteps to Sawamura’s. “I miss his presence.”

“So you could flirt with him more?”

One side of Oikawa’s lips lifted in a satisfied smirk. “He’s fun to flirt with.  It never leads to anything so it’s safe.”

Technically, _technically,_ he wasn’t lying. The flirting had already begun _before_ they knew they had mutual friends. So what if he’d picked it up again after the awkward meeting? It didn’t change the fact that they had already had sex, multiple times, before. So, technically, it wasn’t a lie that the flirting wouldn’t lead to anything, when it had led to fucking on that very first encounter at the dark club with the dizzying flashing lights and crappy and heavily bass boosted music.

Sawamura hummed, doubtful about it. “Be careful.”

Oikawa’s smirk widened at the warning.

“One day Suga will be saying no, and the next day is a bad one and he makes an ill-advised, impulsive decision and the next morning you wake up in his bed.”

“Why does it sound like you’ve experienced that,” Oikawa couldn’t help but tease, to hide the completely different question rattling in his brain! A bad day? Like, the one when...?

You know what? Oikawa thought as he shook the thought out of his head. He didn’t need to think about that.

“Never happened to me,” Sawamura shook his head. “But you wouldn’t be the first man that had innocently flirted with Suga that that had happened to.”

“Would you like to experience a night of wild love making with him?”

“No.”

Oikawa hid the surprise from Sawamura’s straight and immediate answer. “So, you’ve never had sex with him, and you never wish to?”

“Right,” Sawamura confirmed.

Oikawa... Didn’t believe him. Not one hundred percent. He was more around at the ninety-five percent.

... Ninety-four point nine percent.

“Why?” he asked, probing further. He couldn’t just rationalize the shimmer in Sawamura’s voice, the slight waver underneath that maybe, a fucking massive _maybe,_ he would like to, just to know what it’s like, what the big whoop about sex with Suga was.

“Because he’s my best friend.”

 _Wow,_ Oikawa mouthed. That certainly came out like it was rehearsed. Multiple times. In front of a mirror.

“It would just ruin everything.”

“It’s just sex,” Oikawa couldn’t help but chuckle. “So what if he’s your best friend? Sex doesn’t have to change anything. If Iwaizumi wasn’t so hopelessly after female tail, I’d hit that.”

“Lucky for Iwaizumi then that he’s exclusive straight.”

“Fuck you too,” Oikawa replied to Sawamura’s snark with as much sarcasm and an ever wider smile, following him into the little corner shop.

Sawamura chuckled as well, picking up a basket and offering it to Oikawa, taking up another right after. “Let’s just get this over with and get home before it really starts to pour down buckets or rain.”

Oikawa really didn’t want to get any wetter than he already was, even though it was just mildly damp at the moment, and took the lead on getting through the long list of groceries that was needed.

It didn’t take long, and they were quickly on their way home. They didn’t speak much after that, probably due to the fact that they’d stumbled to an irremovable object on the one subject that they shared, but in wildly different ways.

Beyond Suga, they didn’t really have anything in common.

And, admittedly, Oikawa was a little afraid that he’d reach a point of comfortability with Sawamura where he wouldn’t watch his words as much as he did now and could potentially reveal too much about the secret sex he was having with Suga, inadvertently telling Sawamura about in uncertain but definitely certain enough terms that could give him all the clues and hints that could help him make a very sophisticated educated guess.

And he was extremely determined never to talk to Sawamura about fucking Suga.

It was a secret just between him and Suga, one he was eager to keep, at least for now. Who knew what the future would bring, but for now, it should remain a secret from everyone.

But, as a happy accident, Oikawa was glad to find out that once he mentioned Suga, in a totally carefree and innocuous way and not at all like he had an ultimate goal in mind – i.e. the way he had earlier in the elevator with the subtle smirk that he kind of regretted now as he realized that it had been what had made Sawamura so defensive and protective about his best friend – Sawamura couldn’t shut up about his best friend.

Oh, the things that Oikawa learned about Suga during that short walk home. He was sure that he learned more about Suga from Sawamura during that ten minutes than he ever would by just hanging with Suga. He couldn’t wait until he could put some of the new information into use. Was definitely looking forward to it, and to how Suga might react.

Sawamura kept talking, remembering more and more little factoids, retelling funny stories of what the and his best friend had got up to from the moment they met for the first time and became immediate friends. He kept talking, until, he mysteriously just shut up right when he had started about something about Suga’s job.

So, as a conclusion, the subject of Suga was pockmarked with sudden traps and riddled with pitfalls of quickly snapped shut lips.

Oikawa was slowly learning what to steer away from, and it was a fine line he was walking, a treacherous path that could easily lead him astray and cause him to fall to awkward and heavy silences that stretched and stretched. Frankly, it was unbelievable how long the silence felt on their short walk.

First, when Sawamura had just shut up, Oikawa had thought that it was because they were maneuvering a busy and tricky intersection with a lot of traffic, and waited for the story to continue once they were on the other side of the street. That didn’t happen though, and maybe, just maybe, Sawamura had accidentally stumbled onto something that Suga didn’t want just anybody to know about.

Color Oikawa intrigued.

His curiousness about Suga’s work and why Sawamura had suddenly shut up about it was put on the back burner when they got back to the loft, when faced with a lot more interesting occurrence that needed instant attention.  

Sawamura threw the door open, his arms apparently too busy with carrying their groceries inside to bother with going about opening the door with any sort of grace or gentility.

Oikawa snickered at the show. “Take it easy there, Hulk. You break it, you buy it.”

“I don’t understand half of the things you say,” Sawamura muttered in reply, putting the bags down on top of the island.

“That just means you’re not as intelligent as I am,” Oikawa quipped with a self-satisfied smirk, putting down the bag he had carried inside.

He saw Sawamura’s eyes roll, but couldn’t comment on it when his attention was stolen by the way the stoic man froze mid-movement.

And then he heard it too.

“Motherfucker –“ Sawamura muttered, more heated now, and stalked across the large open living space to the hallway.

Oikawa followed him with interest, curious about Sawamura looking like he was about to murder someone just because that someone, or multiple of them, were having sex, at least according to the sounds he could hear carry down the lengthy hallway. This wasn’t the first time that the resident polyamorous lovers were having sex in the apartment.

Although, the way Sawamura stopped in front of a closed door, by Bokuto’s bedroom, that he usually shared with Kuroo and occasionally with Akaashi too, and started pounding on the door with heavy fists confirmed every theory Oikawa had had for the reason for the rule in the loft’s roommate rulebook.  

“We’ve talked about this!” Sawamura shouted through the wood, the sex sounds continuing without a hitch or a break.

Oikawa settled to watch the show with his shoulder resting against the wall in a casual stance. He’d never witnessed Sawamura like this and he was highly amused how the man lost his cool.

Maybe, Sawamura really wasn’t as cavalier about sex as he was.

“You can’t fuck here!” Sawamura continued the shouting, but ceased his hammering on the door.

“Don’t disturb us! We’re trying to fuck here!” came a response, vaguely sounding a little disgruntled.

Oikawa was sure that the occupants of the room hadn’t heard Sawamura, or at least not clearly. He couldn’t help the little snort of amusement when he heard the response, while the enthusiastic moans grew louder and more desperate. 

“Stop right now or I’m going to come in!” Sawamura threatened, his fist banging on the door in quick succession of hits.

The only response, and quite lewd of one too, was the sound and shout of someone coming.

Sawamura rested his head against the door with defeat.

“Are you going to go in?” Oikawa asked with mild interest to find out what Sawamura would do next, if only to fulfil his own predictions about it, a slight and subtle smirk firmly in place on his lips.

It had taken him a while to figure out why Kuroo, Bokuto and Akaashi weren’t allowed to fuck in the apartment, according to the official rule book that the occupants of the apartment had compiled one stormy night when the power had been cut off because someone apparently had forgotten to pay the electricity bill.

Officially, the stance was that they weren’t allowed to fuck because they were loud and it bothered everyone to hear them.

Unofficially – Oikawa looked to the side to the invisible camera like he was Ferris Bueller, ready to explain and clarify the anatomically incorrect and impossible way his friend could make diamonds – and after a confirmation from Iwaizumi, the reason was that Sawamura was in love with Kuroo and couldn’t quite handle hearing him have sex with someone else.

Sawamura heaved a heavy sigh as he turned around and leaned his back against the door, his head resting back as well, chin tilted up a little. “I’m going out,” he answered to Oikawa’s question, his voice tired as he peeled himself from the door and walked with heavy steps past Oikawa. 

Oikawa nodded, having already expected this, knowing why Sawamura needed to go out but failing in fully understanding. He’d never been in love with someone who was unattainable to him and he’d never had to hear that person have sex with someone else. He could only imagine the kind of hell that would be, couldn’t quite help wonder what it would feel like as he put the groceries away while he tried his best to block, or at the very least muffle the moans and words of encouragement and praise, turning every _harder!_ and _oh yes!_ into something that he could pretend belonged to the music, with the earphones playing his favorite music as loudly as he braved without damaging his hearing too much. With his senses overloaded with the sounds and melodies and the quite simple lyrics of repetitive words, it was a shock when an obtrusive image of his ex came to him, the betrayal and hurt he’d felt a year ago coming back with vengeance, somehow mad at him for ignoring it and to sting when he remembered  how he found out how he’d been cheated on.

No, no, no, no.

Oikawa was not going to think about him, how he hurt him. No, no. **No.**  

He quickly pulled his cell phone out and texted his most recent contact. He needed to get his head onto something else, to forget the past hurt. To replace it with pleasure and adrenaline, the ecstasy of an orgasm. He needed to not think, and just feel.

As he waited for a reply from the man, from Hot Piece of Ass, the memory of his ex was overtaken by the image of his fuckbuddy, unbidden but most definitely welcomed. He recalled their last time together, the sight of the man breathless and with a blissed expression, debauched with messy hair and swollen and red lips, skin coated with a thin sheen of sweat; the steamy vision coupled with the sounds the man made when he was fucked, the little gasps, drawn out and surprised moans, the little hitches in his breath, the soft mewls. 

Yeah, Oikawa loved fucking Suga.

But he didn’t love Suga.

Although, he’d have to admit that he’d hate hearing the man have sex with someone else, and quick thought whisked through his mind, a wish that he’d never have to hear such an occurrence.

 

 

 

That was a dangerous thought, wasn’t it?

 

 

*

 

 

“Daichi?”

Suga looked surprised to see him behind the door, slightly damp from the wet weather that was almost a light drizzle but more like a really wet mist perpetually hung in the air. Fine, we can call it rain too if it makes it easier to visualize.

“Hey,” Daichi managed a weak smile, silently apologizing for the bitchiness to everyone who might’ve caught onto the train of his thoughts. He wasn’t feeling his best at the moment and he was needlessly taking it out on everyone. Sorry. “Sorry for coming up unannounced.”

“It’s fine,” Suga assured, concern lacing his tone. It was understandable; this was out of normal behavior for him.

And it was Saturday.

“Are you busy?” Daichi asked, hopeful that Suga didn’t have any plans. “Or were you even alone right now?” He panicked as he realized that Suga might have someone over right then and there, or maybe later... He didn’t want to ruin Suga’s plans. Or go home. “I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead. I know I should’ve –“

“Come inside,” Suga laughed, grabbing onto the front of Daichi’s hoodie and yanking him inside. “I’ll get you a dry hoodie to wear to warm up,” he said as Daichi stared, a little dazed and disoriented from the rough pull that changed his surroundings from the boring and cold hallway to the dimly lit, windowless narrow room of a hall.

But, it was already warmer inside the apartment and Daichi very much appreciated that, as well as Suga’s offer as he itched to get out of his wet hoodie, the wetness of it uncomfortably starting to seep into his long-sleeved t-shirt underneath.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, grateful for Suga’s thoughtful consideration and followed him further into the apartment. Suga disappeared into his bedroom, where Daichi really hoped Suga didn’t have anyone half-naked and waiting for an amazing fuck, while he stripped from the damp hoodie and draped it over a kitchen stool to dry.

Suga had food warming up on the stove and it smelled heavenly to Daichi’s empty stomach. He wasn’t in a mood to eat anything, though. Still, in the mess and tangle of his head, the sounds that had driven him out of his own apartment haunted him. He needed to somehow exorcise them.

“Here.” Suga was holding out a dark, thick hoodie when he emerged from his bedroom, and Daichi, extremely gratefully took it with a sheepish smile.  

It looked familiar to him, and became glaringly so when he saw the logo. “Isn’t this mine?” he asked with a bemused frown and a smile on his face when he pulled the hoodie on.

“You left it here a while back,” Suga shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal that he’d hoarded Daichi’s hoodie in his closet.

“I don’t think I’ve seen this for months,” Daichi thought out loud, huddling a little inside the warm thickness of the fabric. “How long have you had this? Never thought of getting it back to me?”

“It’s been buried in my closet. Out of sight, out of mind.”

Daichi chuckled at the simplicity of Suga’s reply. But, it made sense and he didn’t question it. He couldn’t help but briefly wonder, though, what else he might’ve left behind that Suga had pushed to the back of his closet.

“Besides, I doubt any of my hoodies would’ve fit you.” Suga walked over to the stove, to stir the source of the sinfully delicious smell, his hand brushing down on Daichi’s arm in a fleeting but comforting touch as he passed by him.

Daichi turned, following the touch out of instinct. “I’m not that much bigger than you.”

“You’re a full size bigger than me.” Suga’s eyes were dancing up and down on Daichi’s body, a certain slowness in the movement, as if he was lingering for a purpose when he discreetly glanced at him over his shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with it. You look good.”

Daichi looked away with a chuckle. “Thanks,” he replied, not really meaning it and absurdly at the same time, a little bit flattered. He was gazing out the window, the raindrops on the window slowly falling down along the glass.

He heard the familiar clicking when Suga turned the stove off, and the quiet scrape of the wok on the grill when it was moved. He didn’t need to see to confirm that what he heard was going on. There were sounds in the world that were unmistakable, easily identifiable to him. The everyday sounds that he heard every single day. It was comforting in a way, the normalcy of the sounds in the background, the quiet domesticity of kitchen housework. He could appreciate it during the quiet moments in between, how it gave him time and space to... Just think.

“Why are you here, Daichi?” Suga cut into his existential melancholy, to his musings of how the weather was a perfect match for his mood and a soundboard to his feelings.

He turned back to look at Suga and... Had the hardest time reading him. He couldn’t name the expression, couldn’t tell what Suga was thinking behind the mask he’d pulled on.

And it bothered him! Not the fact that he couldn’t really read Suga, but the fact that Suga had felt the need to put the mask on in the first place. What was he trying to hide, and why?

“Do you have someone here?” Daichi guessed for the reason for the blank not quite blankness, the curiosity in the angle Suga had tilted his head to that wasn’t just a simple head tilt, or anything like that. He took a cursory look around, searching for evidence of another person present, some stray clothes haphazardly left on the floor in passionate haste to get to the bedroom that he’d somehow missed the first time when he meandered to the kitchen.

But there was nothing. Everything was as it always was.

“No,” Suga answered straight-faced and leaned back to the counter, his arms folded over his chest. “You’re dodging.”

Daichi met Suga’s eyes for a second, for a quick sweeping glance, before he looked away because he couldn’t hold the eye contact longer than that and moved over to the couch, falling back to sit on it. He heaved a heavy sigh, wondering... Well, he knew he could tell Suga why he had come over. He knew that Suga would understand, could sympathize. But, BUT! They’d talked about his crush on Kuroo to the point of exhaustion years ago, the issue was ancient and he was worried that Suga was bored to hear him bemoan about the same thing over and over again.

“Daichi.”

He closed his eyes at Suga’s soft prompt, the tone so caring and concerned that Daichi really couldn’t ignore it.

He took a deep breath, let it fill his lungs, and held it in for a second before he released it with a long sigh, at the same time opening his eyes and fixing his gaze to the mat on the floor. “The threesome were having sex. And they’re loud. I just, I had to get out of the apartment.”

A moment of silence followed and Daichi heard the soft pitter-patter of Suga’s feet on the floor when he crossed the space between the kitchen and the living room.

“I’m sorry,” Suga said, his voice so heartbreakingly achy for him it just –

“Why are you sorry?” Daichi couldn’t help but ask with a short, forced chuckle. The smile he tried to put on felt exhausting and painful and it dropped before it was anywhere close to even resemble a smile. He didn’t want Suga to be sorry for him. “They’re in a relationship. They’re allowed to have sex.”

Suga sat on the arm of the couch sideways, his feet on the cushion and his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. “Daichi,” he said his name even softer now, hinting for Daichi to drop the act.

But Daichi couldn’t just drop it. He kind of needed it, like Captain America’s shield to keep himself from feeling the full effect of the burdensome feelings demanding to be, not just acknowledged and admitted to be there, but to be felt, experienced with every excruciating ache.

”It’s just sex. I mean, you have sex all the time and it doesn’t bother me.”

“Yeah, but,” Suga moved to sit down and did so with a gentle sigh, “you don’t love me like you love Kuroo.”

Daichi closed his eyes, letting the comfort in Suga’s understanding tone to soothe him, to wash over him and take the unpleasant miserableness away. If he’d opened his eyes, he might’ve seen the reason why Suga wasn’t offering physical comfort, why there was a warm hand missing from his shoulder or gently rubbing on his arm, or the absence of a tight hug to rub salve in the breaks in his heart. Perhaps, he would’ve distinguished the shattering oddity in Suga’s voice too that was more than just sympathy.

But, as he was overcome by his own problems, his brain was stuck on the simple statement of a fact that Suga had made. Yes, he did love Kuroo. And yes, it was painful at times to see him happy with Bokuto and Akaashi. It was even worse to hear them and let his mind conjure up all the things they might be doing that could draw the moans and pants out of Kuroo.

And it was a goddamn bitch to think about it after the fact. He wondered whether just talking about it without really resolving anything would ever actually help.

“So? It doesn’t change anything,” Daichi shrugged. “He doesn’t know, and he’s never going to find out.” He lifted his gaze up to look at Suga again and saw him walking away towards the kitchen.

Guess they were done with talking about Kuroo and Daichi’s pining for him.

Just as the thought came to Daichi, just as he was about to worry that Suga truly was done with talking about Kuroo, his best friend returned with a case of beer, holding a can out for Daichi.

He smiled thankfully to Suga and accepted the offered beer with a small smile of gratitude that Suga didn’t need to even ask if he wanted one, that he just knew that Daichi really needed to drink. Not to get shit-faced or to forget, but just to make it easier to talk about the hurt, to come to terms with it, even if it was just for a short, quickly passing moment of relief.  

“Okay, I’m listening,” Suga said as he sat down on the couch as well, cracking open a can of his own.

Daichi followed his example and opened the can open and took a long sip. It was probably a bad decision to drown his feelings in the alcohol, a decision he was sure to regret when morning came. The familiar taste, although just one sip wasn’t enough, was already starting to loosen his tongue, somehow helping him get past the usual hurdles and obstacles that kept his feelings for Kuroo hidden and in secret.

Okay, they were doing this. Daichi wasn’t sure if he could do this, if he could talk about Kuroo with Suga _again_ in words that he hadn’t repeated a hundred times over, but he knew he probably needed it. It would probably make him feel better if he was allowed to talk about it. And Suga would let him talk. He would listen to every word, offer kind words of encouragement that everything would turn out better with time. Daichi knew he needed to hear the reassurances, said in the way that only Suga seemed to be able to, the cadence in his voice making it easy for Daichi to take in the words and accept the affirmation that what he was feeling was valid and okay and that it would get better when given the time for it to.

He heard a buzzing sound, the vibrations drawing his focus from mind-melting with the beer to Suga tucking his phone away after just a quick glance at the screen.

“Does someone need you?”

“No one important,” Suga replied, his smile encouraging.

“You did have plans then?”

“I didn’t. And I won’t.”

Daichi looked at Suga, the want to believe him strong, but he couldn’t help but wonder...

“I want to listen,” Suga added, as if sensing that Daichi was about to contradict him on the plans and whether they existed or not. He really didn’t want to crash and ruin Suga’s Saturday night. “I-I want to help.”

The stutter was unexpected, but easy to rationalize away and move on from without getting too caught up in it, Daichi preferring to think it was due to Suga trying to decide the right words.

Daichi dropped his gaze back to the can in his hand, his thumb playing with the tab.

“Am I completely pathetic waiting for Kuroo?” he asked out of pent-up frustration, blurted the question out unable to keep it back.

“You shouldn’t call yourself pathetic for wanting for something that could be wonderful.”

“Come on, Suga,” Daichi sighe, a little impatient, a small voice at the back of his head wondering quietly how often Suga had repeated the sentiment to himself in the mirror. “With Kuroo and I – It’s -It’s clearly never going to happen.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘never’ so casually. You don’t know what might happen.”

Daichi cocked his eyebrow, skeptical of what Suga was saying, of how positive he could sound about something that was so impossible even Ethan Hunt couldn’t pull it off, no matter how many resources and futuristic gadgets and amazing agent friends he had to help him out.

“Maybe in fifty years, when Bokuto and Akaashi have died of old age and Kuroo is all alone, he’ll notice you.”

Daichi snorted. “Gee, thanks. Fifty years?”

Suga made a half-hearted shrug with one shoulder, a soft smile on his lips that looked like a promise of what he was talking about.

Daichi’s face scrunched with sudden revelation... Is that what Suga tells himself?

“Is that what you’re waiting for?” He studied Suga, the careful way he was hiding something behind the expression of a gentle smile. “Fifty years? Or when he’s not married anymore?”

Suga took a moment to think, his eyes moving around the room. Daichi worried he’d upset Suga with his question about _him._  But the upwards curl of Suga’s lips was still present, the air of it warm, reassuring Daichi that he hadn’t asked something that he shouldn’t have.

“Isn’t that going to be hard? And lonely?” Daichi asked, a little bit more than just a little worried about his friend. “You already hate growing up. It’s going to be painful as hell to watch him grow old with someone else, and just stand by the sidelines and wait for that one day that probably will never come.”

Suga’s smile had lessened, turned sad, when he looked at Daichi with a thoughtful expression.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just accept the higher chance that the day you’re waiting for won’t ever come? Just say goodbye to those feelings and... Move on? Drink some alcohol to loosen your tongue and free your mind of restrictions of social construct and just yell all those feelings out at the rooftop? Exorcise them away by shouting them into the wind to carry away?”

Daichi got carried away with his poetry there, and he definitely wasn’t happy with what he was saying, but he felt like they were words that not only Suga needed to hear now and then, but ones that he needed to hear himself too.

“I could keep shouting at it,” Suga replied, weighing his words carefully, sounding certain instead of hesitant. “But it wouldn’t make it go away.”

He sounded so sure of it it broke Daichi’s heart for his friend.

“So you’ve decided to just embrace the feeling of unrequited love and wait for a day that may never come?”

Suga looked at Daichi, like he was really looking, not just through him but at everything about him that made Daichi _Daichi_ , and like he was endeared by it all. A silence fell over them while Suga dragged his gaze over his face, like he was cataloging everything small that made up the big picture, and Daichi let him, let the silence offer comfort and familiarity as he tucked himself more snug into the corner of the couch.

“He’s worth it,” Suga finally decided, came to the conclusion in a soft whisper so assured Daichi was instantly convinced as well.

Because, _yeah,_ he thought with a smile. Kuroo was worth the wait too. And that was worth emptying the beer.

Suga engulfed Daichi into a hug, breaking the invisible barrier between them that Suga strangely had put up with the unusual non-touching, pulling him closer with arms wrapped around his neck and leaving a great comical smooch on his forehead.

It made Daichi chuckle and Suga released him.

“Better?” Suga checked with a warm and gentle hands on his shoulders.

Daichi felt the grounding of the touch, how it settled a part of him when the unusualness was wiped away with the grand gesture of affection. “Yeah, thanks,” he dared to beam at Suga.

Suga nodded and reached for the remote, nonchalant, as though the affection was normal. Well, in a way it was, and the fact that Suga didn’t make it a big deal made it all the better.

“It’s not Sunday, and you clearly didn’t come here for a movie night? But would you like to have one?”

Daichi laughed out of relief, out of joy that his friendship with Suga was so uncomplicated, so easy, so assuring and steady. “Yeah, let’s.”

“Order pizza,” Suga suggested as he started to browse through the options, looking for something awful and poorly made with cringe-worthy dialogue and abysmal special effects and even worse acting and a laughably predictable storyline.

Daichi dug his phone out and went to the app, ordering two pizzas, with their respective favorite toppings. Once done, he put his phone away, picked up a new beer and sat back to watch Suga as he went through the selection process.

It wasn’t the first time that he came to the conclusion that Suga was nice looking. Was confident in being just himself in these quiet moments when he didn’t feel the pressure of trying to put on a front or a show of being something more than he actually was. When he wasn’t bothered by the societal pressures and expectations. When he didn’t feel the need to impress someone.

He was so kind, and considerate, and encouraging. He could make any man really happy, if he wanted to settle down with anyone. Anyone else than the prick who failed to see how terribly he was loved by Suga.

“Wouldn’t it be better if we weren’t just best friends?” Daichi wondered out loud, teetering on taking the step of actually imagining what it would be like, but decided not to take the step and stayed where he was, comfortable with his best friend, relaxed on the couch where he felt safe and unjudged. “If we felt more than just platonic love for each other? We could just date each other like everyone keeps telling us and forget about the ones we love unreciprocated.”

Suga stilled in middle of leaning back to the couch with the remote in his hand. Daichi only noticed it because of the deep breath Suga took, the way his shoulders rose, stopped when he held the air in his lungs, and fell as he let it out slow and stuttering.

Yeah, what was Daichi thinking? He shook his head, scolding himself for even asking, least of all suggesting something so ridiculous. They were ‘just’ best friends for a reason.

It was one thing for their friends to jokingly suggest that they should date. It was another for one of them to seriously bring it up.

He had to amend what he’d said before Suga had the chance to tell him how ridiculous he’d sounded. That was what Suga was thinking, wasn’t it? That was why he’d focused all of his efforts on the long and calming breath of patience.

“Forget I even said anything,” he rushed to say, pushing up with his hands from the slump he’d fallen into and sitting up straighter. “It was stupid.”

“Okay,” Suga said, his face in a carefully set blank expression, a smile starting to grow on his lips, small and timid, but thankfully, _there._ He leaned back like he had been about to before Daichi had opened his stupid mouth. “We haven’t talked for two weeks so I don’t know yet, but, how was the game with Kuroo? Did you have fun?”

Daichi hummed, a smile beginning to stretch his face with delight, thinking back to it. “Yeah, it was amazing,” he answered, somber. “That was probably why hearing them today was awful. Made everything worse for me.” He sighed, long and drawn out, the feelings of joy mixing with wistful sadness, his smile fading. “Sorry again, for ditching you.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s fine.”

Daichi wondered if it truly was fine. He focused on fiddling with the tab on the can again to avoid looking at Suga. “You didn’t come around the loft this week. What did you end up doing last Sunday?”

“Nothing much. Just stayed at home. And I didn’t come around because I’ve been busy.”

Daichi had kind of figured that much. Suga was always busy whenever he didn’t swing by. But, was he just convincing himself to believe that? “Work –busy, or the other kind of busy?”

“The other kind.”

“Ah.” Daichi nodded as he watched Suga slide through the many options at their fingertips to watch with just one quick push of a button, and the monthly fee. He moved around on the couch, sliding down and turning until he was lying on his back, his head on the armrest, legs tangling off the side of the couch. “Is there anything new going on? Are you working on anything new?”

“Work is still the same, nothing new happening there,” Suga replied, his eyes glued to reading the titles and short synopsis of the movies. “But, um...”

The hesitance made Daichi move his eyes from the tv to look at Suga, just in time to see him glance at him over his shoulder, uncharacteristically biting his bottom lip like he was indecisive about something, working through something in his head.

Daichi furrowed his brow as he wondered on the possible reason for it, while he waited for Suga to continue. “But um?”

Suga turned his head away, the hand holding the remote limp in his lap. “I’m off the anti-depressants.”

Daichi raised himself on his elbows, interested to hear more, worried beyond comprehension. “How come?” He was glad that Suga was off the meds. And at the same time, he was concerned. Why? Why why why was Suga off them?

“My doctor thinks I should switch to other kind, these aren’t really working.”

Daichi wanted to scoff. It didn’t take a professional with the years of studying and training and experience to see that the anti-depressants Suga was on weren’t working. But then again, Daichi could take into consideration that maybe the doctor didn’t know Suga as well as he did. The doctor didn’t have the years of experience and knowledge of going through the growing pains of early adulthood with Suga like he did.

“I wanted to be off of them for a bit before I take up the new pills.”

Well, that made sense.

Daichi was relieved that Suga’s mental balance wasn’t dictated by the manufactured chemicals anymore. However, he wondered how it would affect Suga to be off the medications.

“Are you okay, Suga?”

“I’m fine.”

“How can you be fine if you’re taking anti-depressants?”

“I’m fine, Daichi. I swear,” Suga promised with a sweet smile dancing on his lips. “But,” he paused for a beat again, uncertainty lingering on his face. “You haven’t told anyone about them, have you?”

“About...?” Daichi dragged the word, an inkling of what Suga meant, horror of the possibility of having to lie to Suga beginning to build inside him.

“That I’m on anti-depressants,” Suga clarified. “Have you told anyone?”

Daichi felt his soul hit rock bottom. He weighed his options, considered them all with tentative possible outcomes – either tell the truth and make Suga upset, or lie. Tell an awful lie, lie to Suga that he hasn’t told anyone. Lie to Suga about talking about it often with Kuroo. Lie about talking in length about Suga’s depression. Lie how he was worried. Lie about sharing that worry, the fear. Lie to his _best friend._

“I haven’t.”

He regretted it immediately and tried to reason the guilt heavy on his heart that it would’ve been so much worse if he’d told the truth. So, so much worse.

“Good. So,” Suga lifted the remote. “Do you have any preferences of what we’re watching?”  

“I’m good with anything,” Daichi said. “You can pick.”

Suga turned his head to look at him with sudden _glee,_ and it had Daichi reeling back. Belatedly he realized the drawback of letting Suga choose anything and was back-pedaling, taking back what he said, quickly, before Suga had the chance to –

“Frozen.”

“Anything but Frozen.”

They spoke over each other.

They looked at each other, engaging in challenging eye contact. Suga had an impish twinkle in his eye that  
Daichi didn’t trust.

“Suga,” he said lowly.

“Frozen,” Suga replied slowly.

“You have a problem.”

“I know. And it’s you, because you don’t want to watch Frozen with me.”

Daichi sighed. “We can watch any Disney movie you want, just not that one.”

Suga gasped, as if suddenly excited all anew. “Even The fox and the hound?”

Daichi hung his head to the side from exasperation. He knew how Suga disliked that one, and just because it was so boring! They’d never made it through it, no matter how many times they’d tried. Okay, fine, they only tried that one time but it was boring then and they were sure that another try wouldn’t change their minds about it.

“You’re messing with me. Why are you messing with me?” Daichi sat up with a quiet grunt and leaned back on his hands to look at Suga.

“To make you feel better,” he shrugged. “And we can watch something we haven’t seen yet.”

“Does something like that even exist anymore?” Daichi wondered out loud, good-naturedly, and reached for his forgotten beer. “I feel like we’ve seen them all already,” he mused with a small smile on his lips. The many hours they’d spent mocking Disney movies coming back to him with a sense of sweetness and undeniable friendship filling him, warming him up from head to toe.

“We haven’t seen Princess and the frog yet. I think we were saving it for something?”

Daichi nodded along, hazily remembering that too. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what exactly they’d been saving it for.

“At least it’s not Frozen,” he agreed with a shrug. He was game for anything that wasn’t Frozen. Suga’s hate for the movie had turned into a spectacularly weird, cult-like obsession. It would’ve been more amusing than tragic if Daichi had any patience for the animation anymore. And since he didn’t, it was just draining.

“We do need to watch it again soon. _Need to._ I’ve forgotten most of the lines,” Suga spoke with conviction, like he was already planning the next movie night when they could watch it.

“Watch it alone then. I’m not watching it with you. A part of my soul has died because of it. I could do a one man show re-enacting it.”

Suga laughed, light giggles escaping him, his shoulders shaking from the effort of trying to contain them. “Do you think they’ll make a second one?”

“I hope not,” Daichi moaned in a low voice, dropping his head back to rest on the backrest of the couch, gazing up to the ceiling.

“You’re so going to the theater with me to watch it if they do.”

“When I’m dead, sure,” Daichi replied flatly.

Suga snickered. “Okay, I found the last princess we haven’t seen yet. Get comfortable.”

Daichi did as Suga advised and did indeed get comfortable.

“Suga! No...!” he wailed a second later when the chanting on the background, the men with the pick-axes chopping the ice came on the screen. He ended his moaning in a weak chuckle, out of disbelief, out of exasperation. “This isn’t Princess and the Frog.”

“It’s not?” Suga asked in bafflement, sounding truly confused.

“Suga!” Daichi laughed. He reached for the remote, wrestling it away from him. Suga was laughing too hard to really hold on to it and Daichi didn’t really have any trouble grabbing it to put a stop to the... Fine, let’s call it a movie, but with great reluctance.

“Over my dead body,” he said seriously, hitting the stop so hard he might’ve broken the button.

“Hmm,” Suga hummed, thoughtful as he pondered like he was actually considering it. “No, that sounds like a commitment too big. I don’t think murdering you is worth the jail time. I kind of like you as my best friend.”

“I’m glad we agree on that,” Daichi chuckled, searching for the _correct_ princess movie. “I guess you just have to wait for the day that I die from natural causes then.”

“I’ll just save the movie to be watched at your funeral then,” Suga said, bright in a way that it made Daichi laugh.

“You’re a really good friend, Suga,” he said as he sobered from the laughter, as he once again, for the umpteenth time, came to the conclusion that he really appreciated Suga, was really thankful to have such a wonderful best friend. Someone who was always there for him in whatever friendly capacity he was needed in. Even when Suga was weighed by his own issues, he was there for his friends.

Suga’s hand patted on Daichi’s knee a couple of times, the look he gave to Daichi tender in the best, most reassuring and comforting way that there had ever been.

“You make it worth it to be a good friend.” Suga’s response was soft, as was the way his hand disappeared from Daichi’s knee with a lingering brush of his fingertips as it was drawn away. The sensation didn’t do anything for Daichi like it would’ve if it’d been Kuroo’s hand, but he liked the sentiment of it, the warmth of the touch, appreciated the meaning behind it and smiled at Suga.

 

 

*

 

 

 

”Okay, what the hell?” Suga threw his hands in the air with frustration, or maybe it was exasperation. “They just killed the best character.” He gestured to the screen, to the bright star that twinkled on the sky, from his spot on the floor, where he’d fallen more or less on purpose during a fit of laughter over the ‘princess’ of the town and her antics.

Daichi snickered drunkenly into the can he was drinking out of, tilted sideways and carefully so none of it would dribble on to the couch in his lying down position. “Rest in peace, Ray,” he mumbled into the can as he drank the last of what was his third, or fourth, or... Didn’t matter how many it was.

Maybe there was something wrong in getting drunk while watching Disney movies. Maybe he didn’t really care.

“I hate this movie,” Suga sighed and slumped back on the floor, resting his back to the front of the couch.

“Another on the list then?”

“Definitely.”

Daichi pulled out the notebook Suga kept on the lower level of the coffee table and took out the pen pushed inside the spiral to jot down the name to the long list of movie titles they’d never watch again.

The list really was... Long. And they were really fucking proud about that.

“Do we want to finish this movie now?” Suga asked thoughtfully, quickly glancing over his shoulder at Daichi, like he was assessing what he thought.

Daichi hummed, a little distracted, mostly by the pleasant buzz.

And the movie continued. And they mocked it with funny voices. And Daichi drank a little more.

Honestly, he’d missed most of what had happened. There were frogs, he wasn’t entirely sure how many. He wanted to say two, but wasn’t certain enough to go to the bank with it. And also a saxophone playing crocodile – Or was it an alligator? – Never mind. And Suga’s favorite character because he usually managed to pick as his favorite someone who would die.

It was uncanny how, whenever Suga picked a favorite, that favorite died. Always.

Daichi wasn’t kidding.

Always.

Maybe it was good that Suga didn’t find a favorite in every movie they watched, or that would ruin the streak. 

It was one constant in life that Daichi could count on. If there ever was a show or a movie where Suga picked a favorite, and that favorite didn’t die, Daichi knew he should start preparing for the apocalypse yesterday.

There had been that very stressful week following the day they watched Lilo and Stitch, and Suga had fallen in love with a character in an animated movie, when Daichi had been on constant vigilance for the first zombie to come and bite him, for the nuclear war, for the asteroid to crash on earth, for the unfortunate day when he was bitten by radioactive anything and instead of getting cool superpowers like Spiderman, he’d just die.

Luckily, it turned out, to the great relief for the entire population of earth, that that was the exception to the rule, and Daichi was able to breathe without the oppressing fear that the world as he knew it would end.

“They’re getting married?!” Suga asked loudly, incredulously even and it made Daichi laugh. “They’ve known each other, what, a week?”

“That’s forever in Disney time.”

Daichi watched Suga pout – even from the side profile he could tell that Suga was pouting unhappily – and cross his arms in front of his chest.

“Tianna was cool. Until she had to marry the prince.”

Daichi reached his hand out to caress Suga’s hair to comfort him, a sloppy and a bit uncoordinated movement but Suga didn’t seem to mind. “We can’t have Lilo’s in every animated movie. It would make her less special,” he said reassuringly.

Suga sighed under Daichi’s less than careful patting on his head, leaning to the touch. “She is the beaming light of hope to all of us weirdos,” he spoke with awe, his voice hushed. “She is our queen. She did it all for us.”

Daichi hummed in agreement, blissfully intoxicated. He let it overcome him and shifted to slowly lie on his side, fitting his head on the arm of the couch in comfortable position that still allowed him to keep watching the movie.

He wasn’t paying much attention to the movie though, and he didn’t think he’d miss much on not watching the end credits, as his focus was more on how Suga’s hair looked, and felt. He wanted to touch it again, to run his fingers through the iridescent shine of it, wondering if he could actually feel it like he did with the glittering shimmer of sunlight on water.

He switched to his other hand, laid it on Suga’s hair and tentatively, reverently, carded his fingers through the strands, marveling the way it felt against his palm, or between his fingers as he played with it, filled with soft awe.

“Your hair is pretty.”

Suga turned his head, slowly to allow Daichi to continue the petting without disruptions, looking up to Daichi from his spot on the floor. “Thanks,” he said with a sweet smile Daichi only saw from at the edges of his vision, still fascinated by the hair.

“You’re pretty.”

Suga turned his head to look away, ducking his chin down a little as if he was shy. “You’re only thinking that because you’re drunk.”

“No,” Daichi denied softly, combing the hair in long, slow strokes. Well, yes, he was drunk. But that’s not why Suga was pretty.

“I’m only saying it now because I’m drunk,” he continued. “I always think that you are. Pretty. That is.”

Suga looked at him again, and this time Daichi acknowledged the bashful smile and the _so, so sad_ eyes that were searching his face. “It’s still not enough, is it?” he asked quietly, as if he was afraid that if he was heard he’d get an answer and that it wouldn’t be an answer that he would like to hear.

“What isn’t it?” Daichi asked just as quietly, taking cue of Suga’s whisper in his drunken, playful way, his intoxicated smile unable to process the somberness in Suga at the moment.

“Nothing,” Suga shook his head, looking away and seemingly concentrating back on the movie that was definitely just a list of names going by, the teams that had worked on the movie, who’d had to kill Suga’s favorite character, while Daichi continued to pet his hair and think how soft it was and how pretty Suga was.

The concept of time flew out the window and Daichi had no idea how long they sat in the silence when the movie was well and truly over. He was just content to keep stroking Suga’s hair, mesmerized by the feel of it, the way it fell, how it reflected the light of the tv screen in the dark room.

Suga shifted under his hand and he halted.

Was Suga tired of the petting? Daichi withdrew his hand and tucked it under his head, where his other hand already was.

“I’m sorry I just came over to get drunk,” he said quietly when Suga looked at him with questions in the tilt and furrow of his eyebrows following the drawn hand. “And to bitch about my life.”

“It’s okay,” Suga reassured, angling his head to show a glimpse of his smile.

Daichi wondered if that was one of the famous looks Suga flashed at the guys at the clubs, one of the infamous smiles that ensured that he’d got them not just baited and hooked, but reeled in, lured into a bedroom, or if they were in a hurry and sufficiently drunk, to the club bathroom to stain and bruise their knees on the floor.

“I’m glad you’re comfortable to do that in front of me.”

Daichi chuckled and ran his hand over his head and through his short hair, turning so he could look up at the ceiling. “Who else am I going to go to but my best friend?” He groaned then, feeling the queasiness and effects of drinking too much alcohol too quickly, his stomach rolling unpleasantly. “I have work on Monday,” he mused apprehensively, already treading the hangover he could foresee to bother him with a headache come the next day and the three days after that when he would be recovering from the hangover.

“You’ll be fine,” Suga spoke calmly, patting his arm. “Just drink water.”

Daichi groaned, not really assured by Suga’s comforting words, and shut his eyes to will the nausea away.

When he floated back to consciousness, something was playing on the tv and he had no idea when Suga had put on another movie. He had no real interest in the movie anyway so he didn’t bother to ask what it was about. It didn’t sound familiar to him at all, and he was certain that at least it wasn’t Frozen. Thank fuck.

A moment later, after Suga had been suspiciously quiet even with the loud melodramatic screaming going on in the movie, something guaranteed to always make Suga laugh, something cold and hard was touching Daichi’s cheek. He opened his eyes, and first saw the glass held in front of his face, and then the hand holding the glass. He followed the arm up, up, up, to Suga’s kindly smiling face.

“Here, drink water,” Suga advised, touching the cool glass against his cheek again.

Daichi sat up a little, propping himself on his elbow as he accepted the glass and downed it in multiple big gulps.

Ah, it felt good.

“Do you want more?” Suga sounded amused as he took back the empty glass.

Daichi just shook his head a little and fell back down on the couch. “Maybe later.”

“Okay. Just let me know.”

Daichi hummed in agreement, and from his periphery saw Suga take a seat back on the floor again, where he’d been only a little longer moment ago.

“You take such good care of me.”

“You’re my best friend,” Suga replied, almost monotonously but not lifeless enough to really be called ‘monotonous’.

Ugh, Daichi was drunk. Give him a break. It made sense in his head.

Anyway.

Suga was continuing.

“What kind of a best friend would I be to you if I didn’t take care of you?”

“Still my best friend,” Daichi stated, the fact rolling of his tongue with ease and conviction.

“Because I know where the bodies are buried,” Suga laughed.

It brought a smile on Daichi’s face, unbidden and wide, and he was filled with drunken awe all over again. “So pretty,” he breathed, listening to Suga’s laughter.

Suga’s laughter fizzled away, leaving behind a small, tentative, even hopeful, smile as he looked at Daichi.

“You should try and sleep it off,” Suga voice whispered, soft and soothing like the warmest hug in the world, like the loveliest lullaby.

Daichi felt a fleeting, tender touch on his arm. Such a fragile, small thing that in his slumbered mind, he convinced himself to have dreamed it.

“Can you call me a cab?”

“Sure.”

Somewhere far away, at the back of his mind, Daichi registered the sounds of Suga getting up, shuffling around him, ordering a taxi, collecting the beers Daichi had emptied, putting them away as he did with the pizza box. The mysterious movie was still playing, going mostly ignored.

“Suga,” he called, wondering where he’d disappeared to when he couldn’t hear him anymore.

“Yeah?”

It sounded closer than Daichi had assumed, but he didn’t question it.

“You’re my best friend.”

“I know.”  

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

Oikawa heard his phone go off, just a silent, lonely beep, and he reached for it with a sigh.

If this was Suga texting him back, he sure had taken his sweet time replying, Oikawa thought bitterly.

 

_Hey, I just saw your message. Sorry for taking so long to get back to you_

 

Oikawa wasn’t sure if he was mollified by the apology. It didn’t read _sincere_ but at least there was a ‘sorry’ in it.

He got another text before he had the chance to write anything back. 

 

_Can you come over now?_

 

Oikawa pursed his lips, thinking, thinking hard, going over his many choices and every variable of them.

He could go over, he could go right now or a little later, maybe make Suga wait for him too. But, what if Suga didn’t want to wait and would just text someone else, someone who wouldn’t make him wait but could be behind his door in the next ten minutes? Oikawa really didn’t want that. He wanted to see Suga, wanted to fuck him, yes.

However...

Was he being too easy if he just agreed to go over now? Would it reveal to Suga that he’d been doing nothing at home, just waiting for a text back? What would Suga think of him if he just dropped anything at any moment just to go over and have and excellent fuck with him?

The sex was amazing, and Oikawa definitely did want to go. He just couldn’t help but mull over the implications it would have. What kind of consequences it would have for their future interactions.

If he just went now, as he really wanted to, actually felt the urge to go thrumming in his veins, would Suga always assume that he’d go over that fast? Would he begin to expect it? And if someday Oikawa couldn’t just go over right away? What then?

He heard the front door, the sound of it closing harder than usual breaking him out of his deep thoughts. It had already been ten minutes since Suga texted him.

That was enough time, right?

 

_Do you need me to bring anything?_

 

He got a reply suspiciously fast. Had Suga waited for his reply?

The beginnings of a satisfied smirk took over his expression.

 

_No._

_I just need you big cock inside me tonight_

 

How could Oikawa say no to that? How? How could he ever? This was Suga, and as it had already been stated, the sex was beyond amazing.

The smirk now firmly in place, he picked up his stuff, made a quick detour to the bathroom to refresh, and was out the front door with a quick goodbye thrown over his shoulder at the people occupying the eyesore of a couch. He didn’t pay enough attention to note who was there. He had more important things on his mind to spare a second to anyone else.

 

 

*

 

_It's not enough._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was heavy handed on the unrequited love aspect of this story in the last couple of chapters because of this chapter. If you go and read the previous chapter, or the last two chapters and pay attention to what Oikawa notices about Suga and Daichi, it might give you more of an insight of what's actually going on with Suga... 
> 
> *shrug* just a thought  
> You really don't need to.   
> But it might give more insight to Suga
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading!!!


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